The Skywalker Prophecy: A Destiny Renewed
by Darth-Lex
Summary: An AU OT trilogy with H-L, L-M, A-P, two OC Skywalker kids, a revived Sith menace, and more! COMPLETED
1. Prologue with Author's Note

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE_**_: This story is a sequel to A Bumpier Road (also posted at this site), which is an AU version of AOTC and Episode III. In the Lightside ending of ABR, Anakin and Padmé were tempted by the dark side after he killed Darth Tyranus at Geonosis. They drew perilously close to falling before pulling themselves back from the brink to defeat Darth Sidious. While I hope you will read ABR if you haven't already, it is my intention that you need not have read it to enjoy this story. All of the important events and consequences of ABR will be reviewed briefly at some point in the opening chapters here.   
  
The Skywalker Prophecy is an epic-scale story that ultimately will encompass AU versions of Episodes IV, V, and VI of the saga of Anakin Skywalker and his family. Some of the broad plots arcs will be familiar; others will be very different. Like the movies, some characters play more pivotal roles at certain times, while others predominate in different sequences, and the story will contain some drama/angst and romance/mush in addition to heavy doses of fun action sequences. It is my sincere hope you will find this story as entertaining to read as it is for me to write.   
  
And so we begin with Episode IV: A Destiny Renewed._

**Episode IV: A Destiny Renewed**

**PROLOGUE**

_Twenty-three years after the Battle of Geonosis, the Galactic Republic again faces a crisis of legitimacy.  Despite the death of Darth Sidious, the once-glorious Senate has continued to be mired by incompetence, scandal, impasse, and corruption.  Throughout the Republic, the central government on Coruscant is perceived as ineffective at best, harmful at worst.  In his eight years in office, Supreme Chancellor Gannis Trellem of Nubia has proven incapable of fulfilling his campaign pledge to restore faith in the Senate and the bureaucracy.  _

_A more direct threat also exists.  Five years ago, the coronation address by King Argis IV of the small Mid Rim planet of Vyhrrag began what has come to be known in the galaxy as the New Justice movement.  The founding principle espoused by Argis' followers claims that the planets of the Core use the institutions of the Republic, most importantly the democratic legislature of the Senate and the system of trade taxation, to exploit the planets of the Mid and Outer Rims.  It calls for a reversal of the flow of wealth and capital from the luxurious central worlds to the impoverished hinterlands, whether through reformed taxation or piracy.  Many adjacent planets with aligned political and economic interests initially joined the New Justice cause willingly, only to find soon after a notable presence of Argis' military forces garrisoned in their major cities. _

_In the last year, the zone of the galaxy controlled by Argis' movement has expanded dramatically.  In each instance, the planet's leader has signed a treaty with Argis and proclaimed the freely chosen decision to join New Justice.  Yet the ability of Holonet reporters to cover these developments is dramatically restricted by the governing authorities in that domain.  Whether Argis' increasing power is the result of persuasion or conquest is unclear.  _

_On Coruscant, the crisis in the Mid Rim has divided the Senate.  Many Senators, led by the Chancellor, believe that the demands of the New Justice movement can be satisfied through negotiation and compromise.  Although Argis previously has violated several agreements with the Republic, the peace faction insists a diplomatic solution is possible.  Other Senators, led by the brash Bail Millius of Alderaan, maintain Argis already has revealed his scheme to gain power through war and violence.  To the defense faction, any further concessions to the movement would be tantamount to total capitulation to a dangerous and unstable dictator._

---

When the late evening session of the Jedi Council adjourned, the two human members lingered after the other ten departed.  At the top of main spire of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant the light of the setting sun streaming in the high windows was fiery red, casting a grim glow and deep shadows in the circular room.  

The younger man, still athletic and limber at forty-three, rose from his seat across from the single door to the chamber.  With a quick spin on his left heel he looked out over the towering skylines of the city beyond.  He ran his hands twice through his short gray hair, then crossed his arms over the front of his tan Jedi robes.  After a slow and deliberate breath, his baritone voice was filled with resignation.  "Does this disturbance in the Force seem as familiar to you as it does to me?"  

"Hmm," grumbled the older man, who at fifty-eight finally had discovered himself facing the aches and pains of an aging body.  He pushed off from the armrests of his seat, which was several chairs around the arc in the position always given to the Council's chairman.  "Unfortunately, it does."  

The younger man turned back to face his companion.  "It can only mean one thing, then.  Someone has found the missing holocron and revived the Sith menace."  He scratched absentmindedly at calluses on the fingertips of his right hand, an almost imperceptible physical reminder of a violent use of the dark side many years ago.  

As he ambled slowly to stand next to his former Padawan, the older man ran the fingers of his right hand through his neatly trimmed white beard while his left adjusted the folds of his identical tan robes.  "The aberrance has been growing greater and greater, especially the last few years.  I think we can draw no other conclusion.  The shroud of the dark side has fallen."

"I should have known it was too good to be true," the younger man sighed, "that I could fulfill the prophecy at age twenty and live happily ever after."    

"Maybe so.  If the Sith truly have returned, I have faith your leadership will bring the Jedi victory yet again."  With his slight hunch, the older man now was a full head shorter than his colleague.  He reached up and gently rested his hand on his friend's shoulder.  "No one doubts it.  You are the Chosen One, Anakin."

The younger man nodded.  His right thumb and forefinger spun the golden wedding band around his left ring finger.  "I know.  I'd just always held out hope it was over, Obi-Wan."  

--- 

The taps of her shoes on the marble floor echoed away into the cavernous arching hallway ceiling of the Social Sciences Building of the University of Naboo in the suburbs of Theed.  In the informal clothes and single long brown braid of hair she wore, the forty-seven-year-old woman easily could be mistaken for a graduate student half her age.  Her obligations concluded on this final day of the semester, she headed to her office one last time before the long-anticipated trip back to Coruscant.  Awaiting upon her return was an uninterrupted four months with her husband.  She stopped at the door and smiled as she read the engraved nameplate.

_Her Royal Highness and the Honorable_

_Padmé Naberrie Skywalker_

_Professor of Political Science and_

_The Queen Amidala Chair in Galactic Relations_

She pushed the door open and walked past her assistant in the outer office with a nod.  Padmé went straight to her desk and packed her datapad and assorted other items into a shoulder bag.  Before calling for her transport, however, she paused and looked at the framed family portrait sitting prominently on her desk.  It had been taken two years earlier at the twins' twentieth birthday party, one of only two times in the last three years the entire family had been together.  

In the middle of the picture, she and Anakin stood with both arms wrapped around each other.  She wore a simple powder blue dress; he his now-ubiquitous tan Jedi robes.  His hair long ago had gone completely gray, while hers remained as brown as ever.  After so many years, no one teased her about marrying a younger man anymore; from appearance, everyone assumed he was older than she.  As he always did, he was gently resting his chin on the top of her head as he held her close.  

To the left stood the twins, one arm around each other's shoulders.  Luke's sandy brown hair and thin Padawan learner braid matched his Jedi robes perfectly.  Leia wore a formal dark blue gown and her long brown hair up in a traditional elaborate Naboo style.  He was a few inches taller than Padmé and a good half-head shorter than Anakin; she was by far the shortest member of the family.  Like his father, the Force was extraordinarily strong in Luke; like her mother, Leia's midichlorian count was well above average but far below a Jedi's.  

To the right were their two younger children.  Their daughter Danaé, eighteen then, also was a Padawan learner in the Order.  She too had inherited Padmé's long and luxurious brown hair.  Most people said she had more of her father in her, though, including the sharp angles of her face and most noticeably her height.  Danaé was only an inch or two shorter than Anakin, and sometimes it seemed as if she towered over Padmé and Leia.  Above all she had his eyes: the brilliant, piercing, intense deep blue gaze.  His arm around her, their son Bryon, another year younger, stood in his dress-whites military uniform.  He was four inches taller than Anakin, maybe more, and an imposing physical specimen.  With strength in the Force to fall back on, Anakin was content to be lean and fit; without those powers, Bryon had honed his body into supreme athletic condition, his powerful muscles bulging beneath the trim officer's attire.  This certainly made him the anomaly in the family in size and physique.  His face was the exception: he took after his mother very closely, and in particular had her warm and compassionate brown eyes.  

Padmé smiled to herself at their children's successes since the picture was taken.  Luke and Danaé continued to excel as Jedi.  Bryon was now a highly decorated lieutenant in the Special Forces of the Republic's army.  And Leia was about to complete her second year as Galactic Senator from Naboo; she was performing exceptionally and soon would have a longer tenure in the post than Padmé's. 

Yet her reverie was broken by the stark reminder, in the form of a glittering diamond on Leia's left hand, that tragedy had not avoided the Skywalkers.  About half a year after that birthday, the family had gathered when Leia married Jarren Organa of Alderaan, son of Padmé's long-time friend and former Senate colleague Bail Organa.  Anakin and Padmé had been delighted for their daughter and son-in-law and had wished them only the best.  The young couple had shared a happy life together on Coruscant and even had talked of starting a family of their own.  Six months ago, however, just after their first wedding anniversary, Jarren had been killed under mysterious circumstances while on a refugee relief mission to the troubled planet of Gimna 3.  Although the family suspected a connection to the New Justice movement, the Jedi investigation as yet had yielded no proof.  

And so a few weeks earlier Senator Leia Organa had returned to Naboo to spend her twenty-second birthday with her mother in Theed.  As a widow.  

---

The small chrome Naboo schooner _Marigold _shuddered violently as it abruptly dropped out of hyperspace well short of its intended destination of Sullust.  By the time the principal passenger reached the cockpit, the crew had determined the status.  Facing them out the front viewport was a heavily armed frigate with the crests of Vyhrrag.  

"They used a gravity well projector, Senator," the pilot informed her.  "The instruments would not let us fly into it."  

"We are caught in a tractor beam," the co-pilot reported.  "We are being drawn into a docking hangar in the side of the warship.  Our distress signal already has been broadcast."

"We must assume we will be boarded, Senator," her chief of security, Captain Wayland, pointed out.  

Leia felt a chill run down her spine.  "We are far outside the territory Argis controls.  This is a dangerous action his forces are taking."  

"That is true," Wayland agreed.  "Should we resist or submit?"  

"Unlock our boarding ramp and place your men in defensive formations.  Do not fire unless fired upon." 

"Yes, my Lady, of course."  

Leia took a seat in the small conference room on the ship and waited.  She adjusted the shoulders of her close-fitting white diplomatic attire: a simple long-sleeved top with matching pants, short cape, and knee-high white boots.  To avoid any possible misunderstanding, she unclipped the holstered blaster pistol from her belt and placed it on the table in front of her.  

Many times she had faced difficult situations, whether in the legislative youth program, her election campaign, or in the Senate.  Twice before, in fact, she had been held hostage by disgruntled radical groups, only to bargain successfully for her own release shortly thereafter.  No doubt a short negotiation would resolve this dispute as well.  So she was not afraid as the _Marigold_ rocked to its landing gear inside the frigate's hangar.  

A few minutes passed before the ringing retorts of firing blasters echoed down the hallway.  From the screams, she knew the dozen Naboo soldiers in her ship were being decimated.  

First into the conference room were four Vyhrragian soldiers.  They wore the distinctive garb of Argis' forces: tan body armor over green fatigues, and white helmets without face shields.  Without a word, the men took up positions at the door but did not point their blaster rifles at her.  

After a few more seconds she heard a sound so recognizable, yet so impossible, she almost fainted.  The hum of a lightsaber whirring through the air.  And then the two figures marched in with her.  A tall man and short woman, wearing black tunics and pants, black boots and gloves, and huge black cloaks, hoods up to conceal their faces.  Each carried a blazing lightsaber.  

The blades were a brilliant red. 

Fear raced through her body after all.  _So this is how I'm going to die_.  She could not stop herself from thinking that she hoped Jarren had died instantly, not with conscious awareness that he was about to be killed.  _Not like this_.  

Leia quickly regained her determination and burned the image into her memory.  She closed her eyes, scrunched her forehead, and screamed in her mind at the top of her mental lungs the way she had been taught. 

_DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker paced slowly down a hallway of the Jedi Temple on their way to eat dinner together in the cafeteria.  "So, Anakin, how do you think our Padawans are doing on their mission?" 

"If they return without killing each other I will be surprised," Anakin laughed.  "If they actually manage to succeed in the objectives I will consider it a bonus."  

"You have so little faith in my training of your son?  I'm deeply hurt," Obi-Wan smirked.  

"It is as much a comment on my tutelage of my Padawan too," Anakin rejoined.  "She controls her anger so well, except when it concerns him."  He pointed to his gray hair in mock indignation.  "Do you see this?  This is what she has done to me the last dozen years!"  

"Well, to be fair," Obi-Wan grinned impishly, "he _does_ have the Skywalker impatience.  I've dealt with it for far too many years now; it can be quite irritating.  He has too much of his father in him."

"I would think that would be endearing," Anakin winked.  "It's such a relief she's almost ready for the Trials."  

A few more steps down the hall, Anakin suddenly shivered ferociously and collapsed.  Obi-Wan had to lunge with all his strength to catch Anakin before his head hit the floor.  

Cradling Anakin's head in his lap, Obi-Wan thought it might be a medical problem until Anakin opened his eyes.  The anguish in them was palpable.  "Something in the Force," Obi-Wan whispered grimly.  "What did you see?"  

"It's Leia.  She's been taken captive," Anakin rasped.  "Argis' soldiers were there.  And two others, dressed in black.  With red lightsabers.  Sith sabers."  

"We'll get her back, Anakin.  I'm sure we will," Obi-Wan consoled him.  He squeezed his friend's shoulder firmly in sympathy as Anakin began to rise from the floor.  

"She's still alive.  I would feel it in the Force if she died," Anakin reassured himself, if only a little.  "We need to get an update from the military forces in that sector right away."  

"I agree."  Obi-Wan waited for Anakin to stand, then used his former apprentice's outstretched hand to pull himself up.  

---

The small, well-dressed woman waited patiently in the anteroom for Padmé to complete her meeting with Queen Vivonia.  For the last ten years or so Jenny Antilles had served as Padmé's personal assistant, taking care of everything from scheduling appointments and running the office to reminding Anakin of his children's birthdays.  Like Padmé, Jenny was excited about going back to Coruscant.  While she loved Naboo dearly and always had a pleasant time here, the immense, amazing city-planet that was the galactic capital had enthralled her imagination since her first visit.  Having spent the first thirteen of her thirty-six years in the humdrum life of a slave on Tatooine until Anakin and Padmé had purchased her freedom from Watto, the infinite possibilities of Coruscant never ceased to entrance her.  

Her comlink beeped.  She looked down and saw the top-level emergency code flashing: lockdown.  Jenny leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath.

Such exercises were routine given Padmé's stature as Special Advisor to the Supreme Chancellor and frequent consultant to many other prominent Senators, not to mention former Queen of Naboo, former Galactic Senator, and distinguished scholar of galactic politics.  Over twenty years had passed since she last had used the name-of-state Amidala or had held any formal post at any level of government.  Nevertheless, Padmé Skywalker was to this day a dominant behind-the-scenes presence in the Republic's political affairs. 

Then, most unexpectedly, Jenny heard the clomping of military boots in a brisk jog on the stone floors.  Around the corner came seven soldiers.  But these were not the usual Naboo palace guards – these were Republic Special Forces.  They wore black body armor from shoulders to toes and black helmets with smooth rounded black face shields.  Each man had a heavy blaster rifle slung over his shoulder, two large blaster pistols on his hips, and other weaponry and equipment fitted precisely into the armored suits.  The group stopped short of Jenny and the towering leader removed his helmet.  

"Lieutenant Skywalker, how nice to see you again," she said lightly.  She had been seventeen when Bryon was born while she was living with Anakin and Padmé in the early years of her freedom.  Although she nominally had performed other chores, in reality she had been little more than a highly paid and extremely well-treated babysitter with a significant amount of time to spend on her studies in school and to explore Coruscant or Theed.  To see Bryon now was to face the fact that the precious little boy she had helped to raise was tall, handsome, and powerful.  It was nothing short of incomprehensible.  

He did not say a word.  Surprised, she looked into his eyes.  They expressed so painfully what she always had feared someday would come.  "This is not a drill, is it?" she asked, the words shaking.  

"No, I'm afraid not," Bryon told her sadly in his rich, deep voice.  "I'll tell you with Mom, okay?  I'm sorry."  Bryon walked to the closed door of the Queen's office and opened it without knocking.  His authority permitted it.  "Excuse me," Jenny heard him say inside the room, "but I must insist on an immediate lockdown.  Mom, I need you to come with me now."  

---

Luke Skywalker was certain he was being punished.  For what, he could not possibly imagine.  _I must have done something terribly wrong to deserve this.  There are hundreds of Padawans in the Temple, dozens my age.  Why her?  Why?  It's not like Master Obi-Wan not to tell me.  He's usually very direct about his purposes in my assignments._  He looked up from his plate of pasta to the Padawan seated across from him at the little round table in this dingy restaurant in a small isolated village on Gimna 3.  Her red-gold hair was tied back in a single knot at the back of her head except for the thin Padawan braid draped behind her right ear.  It sparkled in the dim lighting and her piercing green eyes bored into his gaze.  He tried to focus his blue eyes in a stern stare at her, unconsciously tugging at his own sandy brown Padawan braid.  "And what, may I ask," he demanded, "are you so smug about?"  

"Oh really, Luke, just shut up and eat," Mara Jade laughed.  She knew exactly why they had been sent three weeks ago on this mission together.  For as long as either of them could remember they had feuded in the Temple.  Initially she simply had enjoyed teasing and taunting the son of the Jedi hero because he took it so poorly.  Soon, though, he began to fight back: pulling pranks, framing her for his own misdeeds, sabotaging her training programs and academic exercises.  The situation improved for a short year-and-a-half after she became his father's Padawan.  Once he became a Padawan as well, however, their Masters used them as pawns in jokes on each other, and that launched the two youngsters into their rivalry with renewed vigor.  Just enough of it was mean-spirited that she knew they would be expected to resolve their differences before taking the Trials.  And because she was over two years older than Luke, Mara faced a bit more urgency.  

They were one of several pairs of Jedi investigating the death of Jarren Organa on this planet six months earlier.  So far they had learned little that seemed to be of use, although they had transmitted everything back to the Temple anyway in case connections might appear with information acquired by the others.  

On their slow stroll back to the local inn after dinner, their comlinks beeped simultaneously.  An urgent transmission from the Jedi Temple had arrived, their respective Arfour units reported.  They were to contact their Masters at once.  

The two Padawans broke into a run.  Their orders were to contact the Temple only at the designated intervals.  This could not be good.  

At the hangar they used the transmitter on Mara's starfighter.  The holographic image of both Obi-Wan and Anakin popped to life quickly.  

Anakin spoke first.  "A frigate from the Vyhrragian navy ambushed Leia's ship near the Sullust system and took her prisoner.  We believe it is headed back toward Vyhrrag-controlled space."  

Luke and Mara looked at each other in shock.  

"You are far closer than any other available Jedi," Obi-Wan told them, not mentioning the other Jedi on the same planet.  "Your current mission is terminated forthwith.  Fly to Sullust and rendezvous with the Republic forces there.  They will be able to provide you with the most current information.  Then do the best you can to track the frigate.  Do not engage with them unless we approve it.  If they reach Vyhrrag space, do not follow them in.  It is too dangerous."  

"Yes, Master," Luke replied quietly.  

"Understood, Master Kenobi," Mara added.  

"May the Force be with you," Anakin intoned calmly before the two Jedi Masters cut away.  

Without saying a word Luke and Mara ran to the inn, gathered their belongings, and returned to the hangar.  Only a few minutes after the transmission had ended the pair of starfighters lifted into the nighttime air.  They flew the newest and best single-pilot craft the Republic armada had to offer.  Displaying the maroon and white colors of the Jedi Order, the X-Wings soared rapidly toward space. 

---

Danaé Skywalker meditated uneasily in the middle of the floor of her small bedroom in the Jedi Temple.  It had been quite some time since she last had been able to clear her mind.  She felt, even though she knew it was unreasonable, that the Force was out to get her.  It would not permit her to be content and calm.  It tormented her constantly with thoughts of what she should have done differently.  If only she were a better Jedi, she believed, her Master would not be missing.  

Eight years ago, Jedi Master Oga Trill had taken Danaé as his Padawan.  About ten years older than her father, Oga was a master swordsman and highly skilled in interpreting the unifying Force.  Danaé tolerated lightsaber training but did not enjoy it.  She preferred attunement to the living Force, which was her gift.  So theirs was a pairing against type, like the stoic Obi-Wan Kenobi training the impetuous Luke Skywalker, rather than her father's decision to use his own experience to pacify the headstrong Mara Jade.  

About a year ago now, Oga and Danaé had been sent on a mission to the industrial planet of Xixus to evaluate the political situation.  Everything had proceeded smoothly for about five months, until the day when Oga did not meet her as arranged after a week of independent investigations.  Danaé had searched for her Master for several weeks before contacting the Temple in anguish.  With the Council's permission she remained another three months, searching in vain for any trace of him, although neither she nor the Council had sensed his death in the Force.  In the process she missed her brother-in-law's funeral.  And shortly after she left, Xixus was occupied by the New Justice army. 

Since her return to the Temple she had led a disrupted and unusual life.  With Oga's fate uncertain, the Council did not feel it appropriate to assign her as a Padawan to another Jedi Master.  So she trained some with Obi-Wan and, every once in a while, with her father.  The very old Mace Windu, sympathetic to her plight, also came out of retirement for a few weeks to work with her.  And because they knew it helped her feel better, several Jedi Masters allowed her to assist them in their youngling classes.  

Her meditation was interrupted by a gentle push in her mind.  _Danaé?_  She smiled and pulled her mind back to consciousness.  _Come in, Daddy,_ she replied through the Force.  

Anakin waved open the door and stepped slowly into his daughter's room.  The unmade bed and the piles of clothes, both dirty and clean, amused him.  _This is what my room used to look like before I married Padmé_, he chuckled to himself.  

Danaé picked up instantly on her father's troubled emotional state.  "What is it?"  

"It's Leia.  Something's happened."  After he described the situation, and told her the responses being planned or already in motion, he looked her in the eyes.  "I would like you to come with me to Sullust.  We can use you."  

Danaé was torn.  This was an assignment.  A mission.  It didn't feel right to take it without her Master.  Yet her sister was in trouble and her father was requesting her help.  He did not need to tell her he never would have asked without the necessary approval from the rest of the Council. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  _Oga might not be coming back.  Accept it.  He would never begrudge me taking this mission with him gone.  I will have to move on eventually._  She kept her tears away as she opened her eyes again and looked up.  "Okay." 

---

The three old friends worked the switches and levers in the cockpit of the old and worn YT-1300 Corellian freighter.  They shared a collective sigh of relief as the ship rocked back to realspace at the calculated distance from their intended stopover point of Eriadu.  After the innumerable jury-rigged repairs they had made together over the years, it was a wonder the disk-shaped transport functioned at all.  

Immediately, the emergency communications frequency sounded its alarm.  

The pilot leaned over and tapped the button.  "Attention all personnel," the recorded message began, "incident near Sullust.  Military vessel from Vyhrrag intercepted diplomatic mission of Senator from Naboo.  Prisoners believed taken.  All available personnel on leave requested to provide assistance."  

He looked over to the co-pilot, who nodded.  Over his shoulder, the dark-skinned man exhaled deeply.  "We have to, even if it ends our vacation," he said simply.  

The pilot dialed in the access code.  When the tone sounded, he announced their presence.  "This is Captain Han Solo, on leave from the destroyer _Orn Free Taa_.  Commander Chewbacca of the same ship is with me, as is Lieutenant Commander Lando Calrissian of the Special Operations Division.  We are flying in the _Millennium Falcon_, a private vessel we own together.  We await any appropriate instructions."  

"Well, it was fun while it lasted," Lando grinned.  At his suggestion, the trio had used the first part of their leave to visit the small Outer Rim colony of Bespin, far up the hyperspace Corellian Trade Spine.  Lando had learned of several potentially very lucrative investments there.  Traveling the Hydian Way back to the Core, the friends had planned to spend the rest of their vacation on Nubia or Corellia, relaxing and considering whether to take the financial risk.  Now it appeared that would have to wait.

The Wookiee growled his agreement.  

"Well, at least it's that much longer of a leave we can take next time," Han laughed.  "And rescuing a Senator would be quite a help to our careers." 

It took only a few minutes for the response to arrive.  The frequency buzzed again.  "_Millennium Falcon_, this is Admiral Mirkalla of the destroyer _Invictus_.  We are grateful for your cooperation.  Coordinates for rendezvous to follow."  __

"Here we go again, boys," Han chuckled as he logged the short trip to Sullust into the navicomputer.  

---

The frantic young woman ran through the ornate halls of the Royal Palace in Theed as fast as she could.  The handmaiden to Naboo's Senator knew something was terribly wrong.  She feared the worst.  Minutes earlier, she quickly had changed clothes into a close-fitting red and white soldier's jumpsuit, strapped on her blaster pistol, and slung over her shoulder the sturdy travel bag containing military attire and weapons that always sat packed and ready on the floor of the closet in her office.  As she hurried along, Sarré Bellion struggled to tie back her shoulder-length blonde hair in traditional Naboo combat braids.  

She had received an emergency page from Bryon Skywalker: _Lockdown room.  Now_.  Her mother Sabé was one of Padmé's closest friends.  The Skywalkers were like family to Sarré, and Leia always treated her more as a younger sister than a handmaiden.  But Bryon was her age – they had been born within a week of each other nineteen years ago.  For their entire childhoods on Naboo and Coruscant, they had been inseparable.  Even after their young adult responsibilities had sent them in different directions, they still were best friends.  And recently, finally, something more. 

The six Special Forces soldiers standing guard outside the secured bunker adjacent to the main Palace hangar waved her inside, where she found exactly who she had expected.  Padmé was pacing desperately in front of the blank viewscreen on the far wall, waiting for it to activate.  Jenny stood quietly to the side, deep in thought, trying to concoct a way to calm her friend down.  Jenny was shorter than Padmé and petite; she wore an expensive pale blue tailored suit and her long brown hair tied back with a ribbon.  Bryon was next to her, his black armor glittering in the lights and his helmet tucked in his left elbow.  

Despite the severity of the situation, Sarré almost chuckled at the contrast.  Jenny was barely as tall as where he held his helmet, and in the dark suit he looked almost twice her size.  _Quite a difference from when she was babysitting us!_  Sarré herself was about as tall as Padmé and at least stood to Bryon's shoulder.  

"Good.  You're here," Bryon greeted her.  Despite the obvious dismay carried in his tone, he had a sparkle in his eyes that he deftly concealed from the others.  Jenny waved three fingers subtly and nodded her head.  Padmé glanced over and flashed a forced smile.  

"What's going on?"  Sarré was unable to keep the tension from her words.  Bryon quickly explained the Vyhrragian interdiction of Leia's schooner, and Sarré scarcely was able to hold back tears.  

"We're waiting to hear from Anakin," Padmé added when he finished.    

Just as Sarré nodded, the viewscreen snapped into an array of colors that formed an image of Anakin.  "Is everyone there?" 

"Yes, Ani, we are," Padmé answered with fear in her voice.  

"Here's what we know, angel," he began, talking directly to her, ignoring the others completely.  He reported the information the Republic's military units near Sullust had been able to gather about the Vyhrragian frigate.  Intense surveillance and reconnaissance of the sector were underway.  "We've ordered Luke and Mara to assist."  

"And what are _we_ going to do?"  Padmé's question did not leave open the possibility of she and her husband doing nothing.  

"Fly with Bryon's unit to Sullust.  Wait for me there."  Anakin held Padmé's gaze intensely.  "I'm bringing Danaé with me."  

Padmé nodded.  "May the Force be with you," she whispered.  The viewscreen shut down.  

Bryon looked to his mother.  "Our corvette is ready when you are.  I called Artoo and Threepio to the hangar already."  His units had experienced combat dozens of times.  He and his men had executed countless covert operations under tremendously difficult and stressful conditions.  Never once had he doubted the success of a mission or feared for his life.  In many ways, they seemed invincible.  Not anymore.  Even though he was not strong in the Force like his father or Luke or Danaé, he could feel something ominous today.  This time, he knew, everything had changed.  All bets were off.  

"Let's go now," Padmé declared, slinging her small bag over her shoulder and motioning Jenny to join her.  The droids would know to bring along the luggage the women had packed for the now-cancelled trip to Coruscant. 

As the three moved toward the door, Sarré stepped over and blocked it.  "I'm coming with you."  

"I don't want to put you in danger," Padmé said quietly.

"This is not a good idea," Bryon insisted, hoping against hope she would listen to him. 

Sarré glared hard into Padmé's eyes.  "My mother would have given her life for you.  I would give mine for Leia."  

The profound truth in her words tore into Padmé's heart.  "Very well."  _Don't you dare make me regret it_, she thought as the four headed out into the main hangar.  

Striding toward the Republic Navy warship, Padmé experienced a rush of somber memory, an icy chill of déjà vu, a haunting reminiscence of taking this same walk with Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi over thirty years ago.  _I have a bad feeling about this_.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Luke kept his eyes closed.  He had seen the bright streaks of lightspeed on hundreds of occasions in his life, and yet each time it still made his stomach queasy.  So he would test himself by trying to keep them shut for the entire duration of the eleven-hour hyperspace jump from Gimna 3 to Sullust.  He was five hours along and successful. 

In the back of his consciousness he felt a simple push. 

_Oh, bantha poodoo._  She had sensed his inability to clear his mind. 

The push came again, this time accompanied by words.  _Did something happen, Luke?_

_No, Mara.  I'm fine_, he answered with as much insistence as he could muster.  At lightspeed the communications equipment on their X-Wings could not function.  So before the leap to hyperspace they had reached out into the Force and formed a small tether between their minds.  They could stay in contact and respond immediately if either of them encountered any problems.  The Force, after all, did not respect such notions as proximity and velocity and electromagnetic interference.  It existed everywhere, flowing among all the suns and worlds and starships on countless orbits and paths in deep space.  As long as they held their concentration, it was no different than if they sat in the same room. 

_You're not fine_,she scolded.  _Don't pretend you are.  Deal with your emotions; don't hide from them._

_I don't need a lecture, and certainly not from you_,he snapped back.  _I know what I'm doing.  Show me a little more respect._

_I'm sorry_, Mara apologized, sending a sincere wave of sympathy to accompany her thought.  _I'm worried about Leia too.  _Unlike Luke, she had no idea who her parents were.  In fact, the Order itself didn't know.  After Anakin had slain Darth Sidious over two decades ago, a terse offhand note in one of his files had led the Jedi to a grimy orphanage in the slums of Kessel.  Apparently Sidious had planned to train Mara in the dark side of the Force but never had the chance.  In a supreme irony, she now was Padawan learner to the very Jedi who had killed him.  And in the twelve years of her apprenticeship, Mara felt she had become a member of the Skywalker family.  She was welcome on vacations, at birthday parties, and for simple dinners at the residence.  Even when she and Luke were at each other's throats over some quarrel in the Temple, they always behaved themselves for family events.  Leia was her sister in all the ways that mattered.  But Mara wasn't her twin.

_I know.  _Luke took a deep breath and blew it out very slowly through a tiny gap in his lips.  He steeled his resolve and went ahead.  _Will you help me find her?_  It bothered him immensely to need her assistance.  He was revealing weakness to the one Jedi who always had been most inclined to exploit any and all of his faults.  The only reason she would be accommodating now, he decided, was her own concern for Leia.  Were he to ask this of her in any other context, he would never hear the end of it. 

And she knew it.  Without meaning to, Mara let her surprise radiate back to Luke through the little umbilical cord in the Force.  _Of course I will.  _She let Luke take the lead.  He knew his twin better than any other person in the galaxy did; better even than Leia's late husband Jarren Organa had.  Luke's problem was not with his connection with Leia.  It was with controlling his own feelings, knowing the grave dangers she faced.  And Mara could help with that. 

Luke did his best to clear his mind and push away his anxiety about Leia's seizure and his incipient antagonism toward her captors.  He focused his thoughts solely on Leia: her Force signature, her brilliant strength of will, her power of personality.  He stretched his feelings out into the Force, searching for her.  Although really it didn't matter, it helped his concentration to think of her as being somewhere ahead of him, trapped on a Vyhrragian frigate probably located between Sullust and Gimna 3. 

After a few minutes, he hadn't found her.  His frustration began to build again.  _It's okay, Luke_,came Mara's reassurance.  _We'll find her.  _He accepted her serenity and drew on that peace to calm himself. 

It worked.  With his emotions composed and controlled, he soon found Leia's presence in the Force, as sharp and clear as ever.  He knew instantly she had not been harmed, at least so far.  She was afraid, of course.  Sad, a little, from thinking about Jarren.  Angry, unusually so for her, at being taken prisoner in the first place.  Mostly, though, she was afraid. 

Luke pulled his feelings back to his mind and let go of his connection to his sister.  There remained many dangers and many terrible things that could happen.  For now, however, he could stop worrying about her.  _Thank you_, he sent reluctantly to Mara. 

_You're welcome_, came the plain reply, unadorned with any conceit or condescension.  It didn't take long for that to change.  _So, shall we spar?_

Luke chuckled aloud in his cockpit.  _Always the sparring with you, isn't it?_

_What?  Know I'll beat you again?_

There was no way he was going admit that.  It amused him, though, that she always suggested sparring before he could suggest a contest of skill in starfighter piloting.  Fair was fair; each of them naturally would pose the challenge to play to the other's comparative weakness.  And she had asked first.  _Very well.  Training Room 8?_

_Done. _

A moment later an image of the wide, high-ceilinged space in the Jedi Temple formed in his mind with clarity and precision.  Mara stood in front of him, lightsaber handle in her hand.  The floor was the usual white tumbling matting.  The walls and ceiling were wavering blue and green in distorted and fractious patterns. 

_8 is green_, she barked.

_Are you sure?_

_Yes, idiot.  I'm sure._

_Well, I don't think so_, he sniped bitterly._  But fine. _

The walls popped into a solid green color when Luke conceded the point.  His blue blade hissed to life in his right hand, and her purple blade shimmered into view as well. 

Luke let Mara take the offensive.  She charged straight ahead swinging high, then shifted to attack low, then whirled away before storming forward with graceful yet powerful two-handed swings.  Unfortunately for him, she was becoming nearly as skilled with a lightsaber as his father. 

_Your mind still isn't settled_, she taunted him. 

_Yes, it is_, he insisted. 

_Oh really?  _With a quick adjustment in strategy, she struck rapidly five times to his right side, drawing him out of position.  In a flash, her lightsaber impaled him through the abdomen. 

The extremely life-like visualizations created by their Force-enhanced minds were just realistic enough that a small wince of actual pain stung in Luke's gut.  She was right.  Even after finding Leia, he had yet to find the calmness he needed.  But there was no way he was going to let Mara find that out. 

_Luck.  Pure luck.  Best of seven?  _Next time he was going to hold out for an imagined starfighter duel. 

Her response came as a bemused smirk in the Force.  _Whatever you say.  You can have as many tries as you like.  I'll still win._

---

Han stopped at the bottom of the _Falcon_'sboarding ramp and let his eyes drift once more to the two maroon-and-white X-Wing starfighters across the gigantic docking bay of the destroyer _Invictus_.  "Should have known," he grumbled. 

Lando tugged at front of his own jacket, then reached over and corrected the shoulders on Han's.  "Look, this isn't ordinary piracy.  This is a Galactic Senator who's been kidnapped.  It shouldn't surprise you there might be Jedi involvement."  Once Chewie ambled down the ramp to join them, the trio started toward the open passageway on the far wall.  The two human men wore their formal dress whites; the Wookiee had donned his equivalent, a white vest and a wide belt around his waist. 

"Sure.  It's just that Jedi always seem to make things more difficult than they have to be.  And they always condescend to soldiers like us."  He shook his head in frustration.  "As if by not having the Force, we're somehow not capable of carrying out missions successfully.  Well, I say the Republic Navy and Army function fine without any Jedi in them.  So I don't see why we need any of them to assist with this either." 

Chewie clapped Han on the back and wroofed in amusement. 

"He's right, you know," Lando laughed.  "It might be the other way around; maybe we're lucky the Jedi are letting anyone else participate at all.  And why is it every time we serve with Jedi, you take it as a personal affront and make it your mission to show them up?" 

"Because they deserve it.  They need to be reminded they're not the only ones who matter."  Han reached up and adjusted the fit of his jacket, reversing the change Lando had made.  "Look, I'll bet you dinner at the Sleeping Bantha on Coruscant that this is what we'll find when we get up there," he sneered, pointing at the wide window of a conference room overlooking the docking bay.  "A Jedi Master about fifty years old, gray hair, beard, wearing those ugly brown robes, grumpy and acting like he's the most intelligent and insightful guy in the galaxy.  A Padawan learner, same ridiculous outfit, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, aloof and quiet, never saying a word, looking all nervous like he just wet his pants." 

"You're on," Lando chuckled, and the three of them slapped hands to seal the wager. 

When they walked through the conference room door, Lando and Chewie couldn't help themselves: they laughed out loud triumphantly.  Han could not have been more wrong. 

First of all, the two Jedi both were Padawan learners; the thin braids hanging down the right sides of their faces gave that away.  And neither of them had the standard-issue tan robes.  Instead, they wore maroon skin-tight flight suits comprised of pants and long-sleeved shirts.  The only accessories were a lightsaber and a pair of gloves hanging from their respective belts. 

One was a young man a bit shorter than Han, well muscled with short sandy-brown hair.  His posture reflected confidence, maybe even a hint of arrogance.  Yet the look in his eyes was sorrow and regret; it was anything but pompous. 

The other was a young woman with long and unbound red-gold hair.  She was about the same height as her colleague and stunningly beautiful.  Han and Lando exchanged a brief glance that included a silent prayer of thanks for the Jedi pair's choice of attire, which accentuated the curves of her body with breathtaking accuracy. 

The young man stepped forward and extended his hand to Han.  "I'm Luke Skywalker," he offered respectfully.  "I don't believe we've met, Captain…"

"Solo.  Han Solo," he answered.  At least the kid had started off on the right foot by bothering to glance at the insignia of rank on his uniform.  He was the first Jedi Han had encountered to do so.  "This is Commander Chewbacca," he indicated with his left hand, allowing Chewie and Luke to nod to each other.

Meanwhile, Lando had slid smoothly to the side and shook hands with the young woman.  "Lieutenant Commander Lando Calrissian, Special Operations Division," he grinned.  "And who might you be?" 

In return he received a playful smirk.  "Mara Jade," she answered, allowing the handshake to linger longer than Lando expected. 

Han, of course, was not about to let Lando monopolize her attention and intervened immediately.  "It's a pleasure to meet you," he smiled.  Han thought he heard a not-very-subtle disapproving cough from Skywalker, but he couldn't be sure and didn't care in any case. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," she replied while shaking his hand firmly. 

Just then the commanding officer of the _Invictus_ stepped into the conference room to join them.  "Welcome, everyone," he greeted the five.  "I'm Admiral Mirkalla.  Please have a seat."  The admiral was a tall and thin man about fifty years old.  The obsidian moustache and goatee on his olive-complexioned face contrasted sharply with the dress whites uniform. 

After everyone was seated and all the necessary introductions were made, the admiral began to explain the situation.  "As you all know, about fifteen standard hours ago the schooner _Marigold_ was intercepted close to this location by a frigate from the Vyhrragian fleet.  Galactic Senator Leia Organa was taken captive.  We've been doing our best to track the frigate as it heads back toward Argis' territory." 

"What am I missing?" Mara wondered aloud.  "Why aren't they long gone?"

"We've been asking ourselves the same question," Mirkalla concurred.  "Our best guess is this: they're worried that if they make a hyperspace jump, we'll be able to track the trajectory too easily.  Then we would just send a strike team after them.  It would be too simple for us to rescue the Senator."

"So instead they stay in realspace the entire way back," Han continued with the reasoning.  "They try to blend in with other starships and won't leave any easily traceable patterns behind." 

"Exactly," Admiral Mirkalla nodded as he reached up with his left hand to adjust the brim of his white cap. 

"If that's true," Luke suggested, "then they must not be in any hurry to return to Vyhrrag space."  He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.  "There's something more going on here." 

Han rolled his eyes.  "What makes you so sure?" he scoffed. 

Luke could sense Han's derision, so he knew better than to ground his argument in the disturbances in the Force.  "Consider the possibilities," he proposed calmly.  "If her life were the issue, they simply would have destroyed her ship and killed her immediately.  If having a hostage were important, we would have received a demand of some kind or another by now.  If she is to be a bargaining chip to negotiate with the Senate, I would think they would want her in the most secure facility as soon as possible."  Secretly he thought Master Obi-Wan would be pleased with his composure and analysis.

Han had to admit the kid had thought this through.  "And yet they have done none of those," he agreed.  "They have a putative prisoner but are taking their time to take her to prison.  It doesn't make much sense." 

"Unless," Lando reluctantly interposed, "they _want_ us to track them.  That, for now at least, a hunt is precisely what they seek."

"Escape may not be their plan," Admiral Mirkalla concluded the analysis with a thoughtful nod.  "You may be right.  Well, whatever the situation, our strategy will be the same.  Your freighter and the two X-Wings will deploy along the last known path of the frigate.  Do your best to determine its movements and, if possible, find its exact location and current flight trajectory.  While we assemble a squadron to make a response, track the frigate wherever it travels.  Once we're ready to do more, we will."

"So as of now," Han confirmed, "we are not to attempt any rescue of the Senator?"

"That's correct, Captain Solo," the admiral nodded.  "That won't be a problem, will it?"

"No, sir," Han shook his head.  He didn't need to look at Chewie and Lando to know they were concealing their disappoint too.  This would not be the first reconnaissance or spy mission the trio had performed together.  Some of those prior operations had become rescues, usually but not always in conformance with orders.  With two Jedi on hand, however, there would be no breaking with procedure this time. 

"We are pleased to have your ship available," Mirkalla explained.  "None of the craft we have on the _Invictus_ has a private-vessel signal transponder, and it should be quite helpful to your mission that scanners will not register you as military."

Mara looked over at Han.  "Our X-wings are customized for transponder silence.  We'll be sending no signals at all.  I trust you can avoid crashing into us?"

Han chuckled.  "Count on it."  He started to lean back in his chair, then sat forward again.  "I don't mean to be rude, but there is an issue we should resolve now.  What's the command structure on this mission?" 

Before the admiral could answer, Luke spoke up from his reclined pose.  "Don't worry, Captain Solo.  Jedi Padawans have a rank equivalent that is inferior to naval captains."  He tossed Han a sly grin.  "Our Masters wouldn't be, but they're not here.  So we follow your lead." 

"Sounds fine.  I doubt it'll even come up."  Once again, Han found himself pleasantly surprised by this pair of apprentices.  They were unlike any Jedi he had met before.  In a good way.  Maybe working with them wouldn't be so terrible after all. 

Admiral Mirkalla looked around the table.  "Are there any other questions?"  When none were raised, he pushed back his chair and stood.  "Grab dinner in the mess.  If anything else arises or we learn any useful new information, I'll brief you again before you go." 

---

Senator Leia Skywalker Organa of Naboo lay on her back on the cold, hard tile floor of the barren detention cell.  She guessed it probably had been close to a standard day since the _Marigold_ had been attacked.  Exhaustion was beginning to take over her body, but she dreaded the possibility of falling asleep.  Against her will, her eyes closed and her mind drifted toward slumber.  Then the images began to replay themselves again. 

_The two black-clothed figures with red lightsabers stood in the small conference room on the schooner.  They did not speak a word to her and she could not see their faces.  Finally the shorter one, the one Leia thought was a woman, had motioned to the door with the tip of her blade.  Leia rose from her seat and followed the taller figure, which appeared to be a man, while the woman trailed behind with the four Vyhrragian soldiers.  As they walked to the rear of the starship to exit, Leia saw the corpses of all twelve Naboo guards.  She saw no evidence they had inflicted any harm on their attackers.  The number of blaster wounds on each body seemed excessive, especially on Captain Wayland._  Argis' troops were not known for their mercy.  The shocktroops the Holonet had dubbed the "brownshirts" were vicious and cruel. 

_She was led out into the large docking bay of the Vyhrragian frigate.  Two rows of brownshirts were lined up on either side as they passed.  At the end of the formation, the two dark figures deactivated their lightsabers and signaled to a squad of a dozen more brownshirts.  Still without speaking a single word, the figures walked away toward the rear of the docking bay.  The sergeant of the squad did speak.  "If you will follow me voluntarily, I would be willing not to use restraints." _

_"Thank you," she acknowledged diplomatically.  The soldiers led her through several passageways and up several turbolifts until they arrived at the detention cell._

As the cell door slid down behind her in her memory, Leia's eyes snapped open.  She pulled herself up from the prone position and propped her back against the wall.  She hugged her knees to her chest with both arms as tears began to trace down her cheeks again. 

She didn't know how many more times she could relive those scenes before she went mad.  In particular, the pale dead face of Captain Wayland haunted her.  She didn't know how she was going to tell his widow and young son.  Then again, she had a model to follow.  Somehow her mother had been able to gather herself together and keep her composure when she had come to tell Leia that Jarren was dead.

That was another image that visited Leia constantly in her dreams.  Even with her eyes open, she could see exactly the way Padmé's face had looked in that moment.  The redness in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the locks of her usually immaculate hair that were out of place, the grim expression of her frown. 

Leia couldn't believe Jarren had been gone six months already.  That was half as long as they had been married, a quarter of the length of their relationship from their first date until his death.  She shuddered at the concept that before she knew it, she would reach the point when she had been without him as long as she had been with him. 

She looked down to see the front of her simple long-sleeved white shirt soaked with tears.  It occurred to her, though, that now Jarren was very much on her mind.  She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on the innumerable happy memories she had of him.  Although she was not a Jedi, she had acquired a power of concentration not so different from what her twin brother possessed.  She instructed herself to dwell only on those wonderful recollections.  And after a few more minutes Leia finally was able to achieve enough peace to sleep for a while.  It didn't matter that her captors had not provided a cot or even a sleepsack. 

---

In a small meditation room in the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi sat cross-legged atop a large round cushioned stool.  He had been chairman of the Jedi Council for almost seven years and held the unquestioning respect and loyalty of his eleven colleagues and the entire Jedi Order.  Yet enough was troubling him that he had resolved not to act without consulting the two retired Jedi Masters whose judgment he trusted even more than Anakin's or his own. 

The door to the room slid up and Mace Windu stepped through.  The towering dark-skinned man was over seventy years old now; a dozen years had passed since his retirement from the Council.  With only a slight groan, he matched Obi-Wan's pose on the adjacent stool.  "Greetings, Obi-Wan," he smiled.  "Were it not for the circumstances, I would say it is good to see you again."

"No, Mace," Obi-Wan chuckled, "it is good to see you regardless."  He tipped his head toward the small holoprojector on the floor between them.  "Shall we?"  When Mace nodded, Obi-Wan directed his words at the device.  "Scramble code six to the Outer Rim, destination Tropical Resort."

A few moments later the flickering blue image of Yoda appeared in front of them.  It was two decades ago that he had stepped down from the Council.  Several years after that, he also had completed his service as the principal tutor of the younglings.  Now rotating teams of Jedi Masters did their best to replace the legendary diminutive Master, the greatest teacher of them all. 

Mace and Obi-Wan shared a quick wink; Yoda was small enough as it was, so the half-size proportion of the holographic representation was almost comical. 

"Forget so quickly, you do," the image teased.  "Read your thoughts, I can.  Supposed, I did, that by now such humor would have lost its novelty, hmm?"

"Sorry, Master," Obi-Wan laughed.  "Size does not matter." 

"Yes, yes," Yoda grinned.  "Taught you well, I have.  But contact me to share jokes, you did not." 

"Not this time, unfortunately."  Obi-Wan took a deep breath and ran the fingers of his right hand through his short white beard.  "The Council is unanimous on its conclusion, but I nevertheless desire your guidance.  Matters are so grave that we can afford no missteps.  After I summarize the facts we know, I would like to share with you the vision in the Force Anakin received from his daughter Leia." 

"Very well, Obi-Wan," Yoda agreed.  "Help as much as I can, I will."

"And I too," Mace nodded. 

When Obi-Wan concluded his brief report on the Vyhrragian crisis generally and the capture of Leia in particular, he closed his eyes and opened his mind to his two friends.  Before his departure from Coruscant, Anakin had projected Leia's frantic message into Obi-Wan's thoughts.  Now he was imparting it to Mace and Yoda.  After a few minutes of reflection and meditation, the three Masters returned to their conversation. 

"I join in your assessment, Obi-Wan," Mace said.  "Considering all of this together, there can be little doubt the Sith have returned."  He let out a deep sigh.  "We always knew this was possible."  Almost twenty-three years ago when Anakin had slain Darth Tyranus and Darth Sidious, the Jedi had been able to locate only one of the two Sith holocrons.  An exhaustive search of every known Sith lair or storage facility, including all the ones Sidious' files had revealed, had turned up nothing.  "It is most unfortunate.  I also agree with you that until we have more solid proof, we cannot make any meaningful report to the Senate.  Sooner or later we will have some substantial evidence, some actual corroboration, and only then it would be appropriate to inform them."

"How feels Anakin?  Disappointed he must be, no?"  Yoda's question was simply concern for a dear friend.  It lacked any apprehension or unease about the profoundly serene and balanced Jedi Master who had proven himself so many times since the year they all believed he had fulfilled his destiny.

"He's certainly disappointed.  Saddened, even.  We thought it was over, that the Sith were gone forever.  But he believes in his destiny.  He believes in the prophecy."  Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly.  "He has full confidence in his ability to fulfill it once and for all this time."

"Hmm," Yoda nodded.  "Fulfill it, he will.  Prevented from his destiny, he cannot be."  He grunted as he adjusted himself in his chair on the other end of the transmission feed.  "Nevertheless, much sorrow I feel for him.  Deserve this, he does not.  Yet in agreement we all are.  In balance, the Force is not.  Fulfilled a second time, the prophecy must be."

---

Admiral Mirkalla stood at the tall and broad window of the conference room, arms crossed over his chest.  Far below in the docking bay, the two maroon-clad Jedi were climbing into their X-Wings and the three naval officers were boarding their run-down and aging Corellian freighter. 

He had to admit to himself that he was a bit reassured by the two brief meetings with the youngsters.  He never had met any of them before, but by reputation he had been quite concerned. 

He knew Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker fairly well from various missions and operations over his thirty-year career.  In fact, during the brief period of conflict that had accompanied the Separatist insurrection two decades ago, a young Lieutenant Mirkalla had been part of a fighter wing that had flown alongside a unit of Jedi starfighters commanded by then-Knight Skywalker.  If the son was half as good a pilot as the father, the Vyhrragians would be in for quite a shock if they chose confrontation.

Nonetheless, he had heard many stories about these two Padawans.  Some probably were true, others almost certainly were not.  Yet he had no doubt Luke had inherited much of the impatience and over-enthusiasm his father had possessed at his age, and if anything Mara was even more willful than that.  Mirkalla could only hope that the men he respected so much had trained them well. 

And the officers were even more of a conundrum for him.  Captain Solo was a good man and brave beyond compare.  His abilities and strategic judgment were highly regarded throughout the Navy.  For some unknowable reason, however, the man was incapable of conforming to the expectations of the military hierarchy.  Three times already he had been promoted to commodore, only subsequently to engage in some act of insubordination or take some incomprehensibly excessive risk that left the Admirals no choice but to demote him to captain again.  Mirkalla thought perhaps Solo had missed his true calling in life.  Had he become a smuggler for a Hutt criminal syndicate, he would be uncatchable. 

His two companions provided some confidence – but not much.  Years ago, one of Solo's unauthorized actions had been to ignore orders to abort a failed counter-piracy assault on the Outer Rim world of Sernpidal.  Nearly a dozen commandos would have been left behind to die.  By the time Solo found them, only the Wookiee was still alive.  From that day forward, the Navy had agreed to pair Solo and Chewbacca together on all assignments.  Partly this was to honor and respect the Wookiee sacrament of a life-debt, but mostly it was because the Commander seemed to be the only individual who consistently could reason with Solo.  So if there was any hope for reining in the headstrong Corellian, the Wookiee seemed to be it. 

And then there was Lieutenant Commander Calrissian.  The man was a master slicer.  The Navy and Army tested the security of their command networks by seeing how long it took Calrissian to intrude into them.  Any time longer than four hours was considered foolproof.  Even though he was older than Solo by several years, his lower rank was due to his persistent failure to follow procedure.  Mirkalla had read a dossier on Calrissian several years ago for another mission.  Like Solo, the man had a heart of gold and no maliciousness anywhere in his spirit.  Each violation of regulations had been in good faith and had occurred only when absolutely necessary to complete his operation successfully.  But of course the Navy could not tolerate such disregard for authority, no matter how well-meaning, and Calrissian always was punished anyway.  Perhaps the present crisis finally would benefit the man.  He had been born and raised on Vyhrrag.  Although he had left his homeworld many years before Argis' recent rise to power, no doubt his special affinity for the planet would aid him somehow. 

Beyond the pane of transparisteel, the two X-Wings boosted off their landing gear and rose slowly in the air.  With quick arcs they spun their pointed tips around and flew out the enormous aperture of the docking bay.  The _Millennium Falcon_, already facing toward space, lifted vertically before its engines engaged and it swooped away to follow the two starfighters. 

Admiral Mirkalla wasn't sure what to think about these five.  It seemed to him there were two possibilities:  either the mission would be a tremendous success or the youngsters would provoke an all-out war.  At this point, the alternatives seemed equally likely.  So he let out a deep sigh and whispered a benediction under his breath. 

"May the Force be with you."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

What passed for the mess hall on the Republic Navy corvette was little more than a small, dimly lit room containing a half-dozen round tables with chairs.  The spartan conditions were to be expected, however; the ship's sole function was to transport soldiers from one location to another.  The vessel was so mundane it had not even been given a name.  It was simply Corvette 2157.  And its design did not contemplate guests.  

"I feel bad for Artoo and Threepio," Padmé whispered to Jenny over their steaming cups of cocoa.  The droids had been unceremoniously deactivated and tossed into a mechanical closet.  The corvette was loaded to capacity with the weapons and gear of the platoon of forty-eight Special Forces troops under Lieutenant Bryon Skywalker's command.  Wandering droids with meddlesome personalities only would have created problems.  

"Don't.  At least they're not aware of it," Jenny smiled, hoping to lighten the mood for the woman who was her boss, mentor, and dear friend.  Instead, the other implication of her statement hung in the air.  The private who ordinarily had the other bunk in Bryon's room also had been raised on Naboo.  Padmé was someone he had learned about in school – to him she was a heroine of the greatest magnitude.  He was more than happy to give up his bed for her.  Nevertheless, the kind young man would be spending the night in a sleepsack on the floor of a storage room because they were here.  

"I suppose so," Padmé agreed.  She reached up to hold her face in her hands as she propped her elbows on the table and let out a very forlorn sigh.  

"I'm sure Anakin will still be at Sullust when we arrive," Jenny suggested quietly.  "He wouldn't leave without seeing you.  It's been so long." 

"I know," Padmé nodded.  Three months had passed, in fact, since the last time she and Anakin had been together in person.  It was one of the longest periods of separation in their marriage and she did not like it in the slightest.  "I hope he's okay." 

Jenny raised an eyebrow.  "Do you have any reason to think he isn't?"  

"No."  Padmé unconsciously let her right hand drift over to tug at the faded and worn hand-carved japoor snippet pendant hanging from a thin chain around her neck.  

Jenny had seen the habit so many times she didn't even perceive it.  "Then why'd you say that?"  

"I don't know," Padmé sighed again.  "Because I'm not okay, I guess.  I'm imputing my own fears to him."  She sat back in the chair and clutched the edge of the table, her knuckles gradually going white from the grip.  "I'm afraid for Leia.  I worry about Luke and Mara on this mission to try to find her.  I'm afraid there's going to be a war, a horribly bloody and awful one.  I really thought I might not see another major conflict in my lifetime.  And now one's not only here, but my children and my husband are going to end up right in the middle of it."  

"Everything will be fine, Padmé," her friend soothed.  

"I used to think so too," Padmé frowned mournfully.  "And then Jarren was murdered.  Nothing's been fine since that day."  She glanced around the mess hall and realized there was only one other occupied table.  "I hope they can enjoy their reunion," she motioned with her left hand.  "These aren't exactly ideal circumstances." 

Jenny turned around over her shoulder to see Bryon and Sarré sitting across a table from each other on the far side of the room.  The youngsters were leaning in toward one another, immersed in what appeared to be a deeply emotional conversation.  Jenny faced Padmé again.  "I hope so too."  She took another sip of her warm drink.  "When was the last time they saw each other?" 

"As far as I know, it was sometime last year.  They met up on Coruscant and had lunch.  It wasn't very long; just an hour or so.  Leia mentioned it to me."  Padmé brushed a few dangling locks of her long brown hair away from her face.  "I don't think they've even been able to speak on the holo for a few months." 

"That's really sad.  They used to be so close."  A little twinkle appeared in Jenny's eye.  "Do you think they've ever… you know…" 

Padmé laughed lightly.  "No.  They considered it many times, I'm sure, but they never did." 

"And what makes you so certain," Jenny winked, "that you'd be aware of the truth?"  When the Skywalker children were growing up, Jenny often simultaneously had played contradictory roles as conduit and confidant.  On some occasions, one of them would confess something to her with the unspoken assumption that she would tell Padmé and Anakin.  Usually this occurred when it was better that a third party deliver the news.  Other times she would be told information subject to the strictest promises of secrecy imaginable, and she honored those pledges to this day.  Jenny would never betray the trust the children she had helped to raise had placed in her. 

"A fair enough question, I suppose," Padmé chuckled again.  "Do you remember three years ago, when we all went to that big Lake Country lodge for a weeklong vacation?"  

"Three years ago?  That's when Leia announced her Senate candidacy, and Sarré was her campaign manager.  And when Bryon went off to the Academy.  I'm not sure I…" 

"No, no," Padmé interrupted to clarify.  "Right before all that.  It was everyone.  Anakin and me.  Luke, Leia, Danaé, and Bryon.  Sabé and Alain brought Sarré and Nalé.  Mara came for part of it.  And you, obviously."  

"Of course, of course.  Yes.  I remember now." 

"So the last morning we were there," Padmé continued, "I woke up just after dawn.  I couldn't sleep, so I headed toward the kitchen to get something to drink.  And just as I was about to pass Bryon's room…"  She paused for dramatic effect.

"Oh, you can't be serious," Jenny whispered loudly, trying to be sure the young couple only a few yards away wouldn't hear but failing to contain her surprise.  "Sarré came out of his room?  She spent the night with him while you and Anakin were just down the hallway?" 

Padmé simply winked. 

"Wow."  Jenny's face showed her incredulity.  "That girl is more courageous than I thought!" 

"At the time, she was anything but," Padmé grinned.  "I really thought she was going to die from embarrassment right then and there.  I've never seen anyone blush so red.  But she walked with me to the kitchen and we drank a cup of caf together.  We talked about a lot of things, including Bryon.  She couldn't look me in the eyes for the longest time until she finally just blurted out that it wasn't what I assumed and please not to hate her.  She felt much better after I told her I believed her.  And that I would never hate her, even if it was."

"Did you ever say anything to Bryon?"  

"No.  I suppose she probably did.  But I didn't."  Padmé took another sip of her cocoa.  "And before you ask, no, I never told Anakin either." 

"Really?"

"Really."

"Why not?"

"Because he wouldn't have let it go.  And this is best left alone."  

"I must say, Professor," her friend teased, "this seems a bit unlike you."  

"I've got a little bit of secret rebelliousness in me, in case you've forgotten," Padmé smirked.  "Anakin and I didn't exactly follow all the rules before we were married." 

"Sure, but he and you had a whole destiny thing going on too.  You know, will of the Force.  All of that."

Padmé gave Jenny a kind and gentle look in the eyes.  "Well, maybe I'm wrong, but I've always felt something about those two.  They're meant for each other.  I don't know if they realize it yet, but I'm sure sooner or later they will."  

"I had no idea you were such a softy," Jenny chuckled.  "It's a good thing Leia didn't know this when she was courting Jarren or she would have manipulated you to no end."  

Padmé's eyes lost their sparkle for a second, but it quickly returned.  "And that, by the way, is how I know nothing's happened between them since the Lake Country.  Sarré would tell Leia and Leia would tell me.  I know Bryon would rather die than admit something like that to me, or even to his father.  But all I need is one side to confess."  

"See, Padmé, that's the political operator I expect from you!"  Jenny finished off her drink and set the empty cup on the table again.  "So.  Do you think we should offer to give them some privacy tonight?"  She reached her hands back to begin tying her long brown hair into a braid.  

"No," Padmé winked again.  "They're adults now.  I respect and trust them both enough to honor their request.  But I won't go out of my way to make it easy for them.  They have to ask." 

"Oh, you're good.  You're very, very good."  The two ladies rose from their table and headed toward the door.  

"You know, I think at least we should…"  Jenny flashed a sly grin and finished her thought by whispering in Padmé's ear.  When she pulled away, Padmé nodded before she turned back and called out across the room to her son and his paramour.  

"Good night, you two."

---

In the congested channels of hyperspace near the important Core world of Corellia, no one noticed the unusually fast starship that arrived from the direction of the capital, used the planet's gravitational pull to adjust its path without dropping from lightspeed, and blazed Outward in the general direction of Sullust.  Had anyone bothered to check its identification codes, they would have found simply a mundane private yacht called the _Lady Vader_. 

Anakin Skywalker's personal ship was anything but ordinary, however.  It was too big to be fairly called a starfighter, although it handled better than any X-Wing.  It was too small to be classed as a transport or freighter, although in the past it had ferried a dozen persons in barely overcrowded conditions.  The navicomputer was top-of-the-line and the hyperdrive was the most powerful ever built for craft of this size.  Shaped generally like a thick arrowhead, the port and starboard sides of the wedge bristled with forward-facing laser cannons and torpedo ports.  If one looked carefully, though, one could see additional laser cannons concealed in the design that pointed to the rear, up, down, and straight out to the sides – the pilot could fire in six directions at once.  In addition to the cockpit with three seats, the vessel had a small cabin lounge, a cramped bedroom with four bunks, a refresher, and a notable amount of storage space.  

Like its owner, the _Lady Vader_ was exceptional and unparalleled.  Since its completion seven years ago on special order from Kuat Systems Engineering, he rarely had flown or traveled in any other ship.

When a cursory check of the instruments confirmed that the arc around Corellia had gone smoothly, Anakin unbuckled the restraints and stood up from the pilot's seat.  By the time he had turned around, Danaé had risen from the starboard co-pilot's chair and was waiting at the open door to the narrow cabin hallway.  After his simple nod, she led the way the dozen paces to the lounge.  

A few minutes later father and daughter, dressed identically in the standard-issue tan Jedi robes, sat across from each other at the small square table drinking her favorite – shuura fruit juice from Naboo.  Anakin sensed a question hovering around the edges of her mind.  He decided to ease her spirit.  "We have almost nine hours until we reach Sullust.  It's been a while since we talked, Danaé," he reminded her gently.  "I can tell you're wondering about something.  Ask me.  Whatever it is, I don't mind."  

Danaé looked up and met her father's tender gaze.  "Alright," she replied.  "I've been curious for a while but never had the nerve."  She gulped another swig of juice and swallowed hard.  "The _Lady Vader_.  I know it means Mom.  But where does it come from?  What's the name about?"  

Anakin leaned back in his chair and let out a contented chuckle.  "Your patience is remarkable, sweetheart.  I can't believe you waited so long."  He paused for a moment to try to figure out where to begin.  There was no reason to repeat the parts of the story Danaé already knew well.  Danaé had heard the tale of her parent's whirlwind romance many times in her life.  But she had not yet learned every little detail.  

"You remember," he proceeded deliberately, "that your mother and I were sent into hiding on Naboo?"

"Yes," Danaé nodded.  "It was the best way to ensure her safety."  

"We went to a secluded lake retreat to conceal ourselves.  When we arrived, we realized we should use an assumed name.  So I asked the Force for guidance." 

Her eyes sparkled as she made the connection.  "And the Force gave you the name Vader." 

"Very good," he smiled.  "It spoke to me, revealed itself to me.  So we called ourselves the Vaders while we were on Naboo.  After that, off and on, we used the name to hide our identities.  And I guess you could say it grew into a secret name we could call each other."

Danaé could perceive a very subtle flush in her father's face and a quiver in his Force presence.  It took her only a second to realize why.  The name clearly also had some significance to her parents in a certain deeply private aspect of their lives that Danaé never, ever, ever let herself think about.  She quickly redirected the conversation.  "I remember once overhearing you joking with Master Kenobi that Bryon inherited the Vader genes.  That's what you mean, right?  Because he's so much bigger than the rest of us?  Like he's not really your son, but someone else's.  The old joke, that it's the delivery man's kid, that kind of thing." 

"That's right," Anakin laughed heartily.  "Your mother and I still have no idea where he got that from.  So sometimes we joke that it was Vader, not Skywalker, who fathered him."  

Danaé finished off her juice and set the empty bottle on the table.  "Where did the name really come from in the Force, though?  Do you know?  I mean, I assume it wasn't just so you and Mom could have a little inside joke about your fourth child."  When she looked up again, she saw his eyes were somber.  "I'm sorry.  Did I say something wrong?" 

"No, no," he shook his head.  He sat forward in the chair and ran his fingers through his short gray hair.  Then he rested his right hand, palm up, in the middle of the table.  He wiggled his fingers.  "You know what these are, right?"  

She knew immediately he meant the calluses on his fingertips and the rough scar on his palm.  "Yes.  They're from when you drew upon the dark side.  You used the Sith lightning when you were fighting against Dooku."  

When he didn't say anything more, she raised her eyes to meet his.  He was staring at her with great intensity.  She knew that stare – he wanted her to figure it out for herself.  _What am I missing?_ she wondered.  _What am I overlooking about the scars, or the dark side, or the fight with Dooku, or…_  Then it hit her.  Not Dooku.  Darth Tyranus.  

Danaé leaned back in her chair and took a very slow and deliberate deep breath.  "Darth Vader," she whispered.  

Anakin matched her pose in his chair.  Still he did not speak but only looked at her contemplatively.  

"Had you fallen to the dark side, that's who you would have become.  Darth Vader.  The Force told you your Sith name."  She shook her head.  "So why in the galaxy would you call Mom Lady Vader, or name the ship that?"  

"For two reasons," he said finally.  "First, that's not what it is to your mother and me, so we don't think of it that way.  And second, it's a reminder.  Of what's at stake every day, Danaé.  Of how close I came to losing all of this."  He clasped his hands over his abdomen.  "That I have everything to lose and nothing to gain if I ever make the wrong choices again." 

Danaé was looking aimlessly at the toes of her boots and tugging with her fingers at two locks of her long brown hair.  

"I'm sorry," Anakin apologized.  "You had no way of knowing that a simple question would lead to this kind of a discussion.  It's not what you needed right now."  

She sat up straight in the chair.  "Sometimes we don't get to choose where life leads us.  Sometimes the will of the Force isn't what we expect."  Her poise and composure had returned fully now.  "Maybe I didn't want it, but maybe I needed to hear it anyway." 

He nodded approvingly.  "You're probably right."  He rose from the chair and sat down cross-legged a short distance away on the carpeted floor.  "I know you've had trouble lately clearing your mind when you meditate.  You can join me now if you like.  It might help."  

She didn't have to think about it.  Opportunities to meditate with her father were few and far between, although they had been slightly more frequent since her Master's disappearance.  And even if it didn't help her achieve any serenity, it still would be nice.  

---

Sarré's face was bright when she faced Bryon again.  "I thought they'd never leave!" 

Bryon smiled.  He reached out with both hands and took hers.  "I've missed you so much," he admitted desperately.  Even though they were alone in the room and everyone else on the ship had gone to sleep, they kept their voices hushed.

Sarré simply stared into his eyes.  She had told him that seven times in the previous half-hour without hearing it in return.  His mother wasn't strong in the Force.  Yet for some reason he was incapable of speaking the words aloud with her in the room.  So he was going to pay for it, if only for a few minutes.  

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely.  "If I hurt your feelings, I didn't mean to."  

All he was receiving in reply was a delighted smile from the gorgeous blonde girl in the red-and-white jumpsuit.  It looked like she was admiring the way his tight black fatigues fit over his muscled frame, but he couldn't be sure. 

Now his hands were sweating profusely.  But he was unwilling to release his hold on hers.  "Really, I'm sorry.  You just have to realize what it's like.  My father and my brother and my sister are Jedi.  They pick up emotions without meaning to.  It's natural for them – it's no different than seeing colors and hearing sounds."  He took a deep breath.  "And think about who my men are.  They're all trained to have maximum perception.  They can interpret eyes and faces easily, and they can understand whispers and read lips perfectly.  I'm so accustomed to being circumspect I don't even do it on purpose." 

She decided to let him off the hook.  Just a bit.  "Even if all of that is true – and you forgot it's only your mother, who can't do any of those things – so what?  What do you care if your mother knows how you feel about me?" 

"It's not that I _don't_ want her to know," he conceded.  "At least I don't think so.  But it seems different to me for her to hear me say it than if she just assumes it, or figures it out for herself." 

"Or if someone else tells her?"  She never had told him about the mortifying encounter and poignant conversation with his mother.  She had meant to, of course, but had been afraid to admit it.  The more time passed, the more difficult it became to explain why she had waited to bring it up.  Now it seemed impossible.  Except that Padmé might say something to him.  Which would be very bad.  

"Hmm?"  Bryon was oblivious.  

Fortunately, the politician in Sarré found an avenue of evasion.  "Well, I don't hide things from my mother.  She knows how I feel about you.  How much I miss you.  It's only a matter of time before she and your mom talk about this."  She would deal with the other problem later. 

"You're right," he nodded.  "It would be different if Mom hears it from your mother than from me." 

"That's crazy," she teased.  "But for now I'll let it go."  She looked fiercely into his brown eyes and squeezed his hands more firmly.  "I bet you thought you'd successfully kept the subject changed, huh?" 

Bryon held the intense stare while he frowned.  "I was hoping so, yes."  As he had on countless prior occasions, he decided that her lavender eyes outshone even the most beautiful gems in the galaxy.  

"Too bad, Bryon," she insisted.  "You have to tell me what's going on.  You're sullen.  Moody.  You haven't called me for weeks and weeks.  Please.  Let me help you." 

"I can't, Sarré," he sighed, breaking their gaze.  "I just can't."  His eyes drilled into the bottom of his empty cup of cocoa. 

"Look at me!"  She let her voice rise and gain an edge.  It worked.  He met her eyes again.  "Are you going to make me guess?"

"Yes?" he replied tentatively, hoping it might distract her by making her angry about the gamesmanship rather than his reticence.  

It didn't work.  "Well, I won't.  Seriously, tell me." 

"Fine.  You win."  He took a slow breath before he continued.  "Our last mission was brutal.  We all survived, but it was close for a while."  

"Did you have to kill anyone?"  

"We all did." 

"How many did you kill?  Yourself, I mean." 

He looked deeply into her eyes again.  "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do," she persisted.  He was silent for so long she thought he wasn't going to answer.  "Bryon?" 

"I lost count at forty."  His voice, ordinarily so deep and rich and sonorous, was a raspy whisper. 

"What?"  She wasn't angry or disappointed – only shocked.  After a few heartbeats she composed herself.  "Did you say forty?" 

He nodded sadly.  

She squeezed his hands even tighter.  "On the last mission alone?"  

He nodded somberly again and clutched her fingers so firmly it almost hurt.

"I'm so sorry," she said in anguish.  "I had no idea."  She could see from the look on his face that she had pressed him further than she should have for their first face-to-face meeting in two hundred four days and their first conversation in seventy-three.  The mental log in her head had become almost unbearable.  "I suppose we should get some sleep too, huh?"

"Yes, we should," he agreed.  

They rose from their chairs and headed toward the officer's quarters.  Sarré took his hand and clutched it reassuringly while they walked.  It didn't seem possible, but she thought it looked like he had grown since the last time she'd seen him.  Not taller, probably, but more muscular.  He was gigantic.  Then again, maybe it was just her memory – it always seemed to do that to her, to trick her into forgetting the difference in size between them.  

He stopped outside the door to the room and looked down to face her.  "I'll change in the refresher and you can change in the room.  Just knock when you're ready." 

"That sounds fine," she smiled, a little glad he had not suggested anything different.  

"I'll squeeze in with my mom; you'll have more room with Jenny." 

She had forgotten there were only two beds in the room.  "That's fine too."  She released his hand so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable when the door opened.  

When it did, they both stopped in their tracks in the doorway.  Padmé and Jenny were sound asleep, back-to-back on one bed.  Bryon and Sarré stared at each other in disbelief.  

For a second Sarré thought it might be a trick, a setup, a test of some kind.  Maybe they were supposed to wake up the two women to correct the sleeping arrangements.  That didn't seem like Padmé, though.  Before she could think anything further, Bryon whispered in her ear.  

"Knock when you're ready."  He grabbed a small luggage bag from the foot of the bed and stepped inside the only private refresher on the starship.  

A few minutes later during her turn, Sarré looked at herself in the mirror.  When she had packed her travel bag ages ago, it had not occurred to her that she might be sharing a bed with Bryon.  The sleepshorts seemed awfully short indeed, and the sleeveless cotton top was far too revealing.  But there was nothing she could do.  She waved open the refresher door and climbed into the bed with Bryon, learning in the process that the Republic military's sleep attire left about as much to the imagination as did Naboo's.  She allowed herself to let her back come to rest against his chest.  And she knew he had to be wedged to the wall uncomfortably – there was far too much room for her.  

Without a word, Bryon wrapped his right arm around her.  His hand slipped gently under her shirt to touch the bare skin of her abdomen – and stayed there.  For a moment he was afraid he accidentally had crossed a line he thought he understood until he felt her entire body relax with a rush of contentment.  

Sarré smiled to herself.  He always knew exactly what to do.  

---

Anakin let his thoughts drift away from the nondescript images and sensations flowing to him in the Force and began to ponder the present again.  He had many issues to consider. 

He missed Padmé terribly.  Even though they had spoken every day for the last few months, it wasn't enough.  He needed her with him: her bright presence in the Force, the scent of her hair, simple kisses or loving touches for no particular reason, and most of all the gentle look in her brown eyes every time she said she loved him.  When they were apart, they never had the time to discuss things in as much detail as when they were together, and in the current crisis her judgment and insight were more important to him than ever.

Anakin also had great concern for Leia.  Every few hours he reached out in the Force and brushed over her presence to be sure she remained safe.  Not that he had a plan for what to do if she were in direct danger, but at least he didn't have to create one yet.  While she was on his mind, he directed his concentration toward her again.  After a few seconds, her aura shimmered into his consciousness.  As it had been, it was full of fear and sadness but did not reveal any perceptions of imminent threats.  He released his focus on his eldest daughter and turned his attention to the younger one.

Without disrupting her meditation, he sent a tendril of his feelings around Danaé.  Her concentration was intense and her emotions were calm and controlled.  Many things troubled her, but by drawing on her father's strength she had found the willpower to clear her mind and relax her spirit to allow the Force to guide her thoughts.  When he pulled back from her as well, a shallow smile crossed Anakin's face.  He was proud of them both.  Very proud indeed.

He knew the time for meditation was nearly at an end, so he forced himself to perform the daily ritual that for the past twenty-three years had kept his emotions in equipoise regardless of the circumstances.  He would confront yet again the simple truth he had spoken earlier to Danaé – he had come perilously close to losing everything in his life he valued.  Every single day he remembered it, often more than once.  

His memories took him back to the critical weeks and months so many years ago.  He had drawn on the dark side of the Force, letting it burn in his body and dominate his spirit when he struck down Count Dooku in the hangar on Geonosis.  After his victory, he and Padmé had escaped the planet together – alone.  For several months they had remained in hiding from both Darth Sidious and the Jedi.  The pull of the dark side had been intense, and it had affected not only Anakin but Padmé as well.  It led them to do several terrible things they should not have done until their love for each other had pulled them back from the brink.  When analysis of data they had taken from Dooku led them to Sidious – to Palpatine – they had returned to Coruscant.  Anakin had exploited Sidious' overconfidence to spring a trap that allowed him to slay the undefended Sith Lord with a concealed lightsaber.  And then he had thrown himself on the mercy of the Jedi Council in a three hundred seventy page essay that confessed his actions and emotions, declared his love for Padmé and his lifetime of visions in the Force about her, and argued convincingly for a special dispensation given his unusual upbringing and his destiny.  Considering his temptation by the dark side, his recovery from it with her assistance, his single-handed fulfillment of the prophecy, and most of all the emotional maturity proven by the essay itself, the Council had granted his requests.  

That Anakin had been a model Jedi from that day forward did not detract from the risks involved in the unusual life he was allowed to live.  The Code forbade possession and attachment to prevent a Jedi's objective and impartial judgment from being impaired and to insure against the dark emotions that all too easily can result from pain and loss.  By having a family whom he loved and who love him in return, Anakin was potentially far closer to a descent into darkness than any other member of the Jedi Order.  

Yet no one seriously considered that possibility anymore for the precise reason that Anakin himself was so fully and consciously aware of it.  Even were a terrible tragedy to strike his family, he would not let anger or hate rise in his spirit or control his actions.  That had happened to him all those years ago, on Tatooine and Geonosis and several more times.  When his son-in-law Jarren Organa was murdered, however, he had ordered an investigation but nothing more.  And when they learned the identity of the killers, which he had no doubt eventually they would, he would turn them over to a court of law for justice.  There would be no personal vengeance or retaliation.

When he had demonstrated this complete and total self-awareness and had come to understand the temptations of the dark side, even those members of the Jedi Council who once had believed Anakin was a threat to the very integrity of the Order itself not only had accepted his marriage to Padmé but within two years also had elected him to join them on the Council.  And no matter what happened in the present crisis, even the unthinkable, he was confident he would never tread down the dark path again. 

All of this profound meditation notwithstanding, the last shreds of the notorious Skywalker impatience had not been expunged totally from his soul.  With all his heart he willed the _Lady Vader_ to fly even faster toward Sullust.  He really, really, really needed to see Padmé again. 


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR **

"Leave your cloak onboard," Anakin called to Danaé down the hallway of the _Lady Vader_.  "We may not be here very long, depending on what they've found while we were in hyperspace."  He didn't really expect any results yet, but he was trying to be optimistic.  

His daughter clipped her lightsaber to her belt as she joined him at the top of the boarding ramp.  "Ready," she smiled.  

Waiting for them a short distance away from the starship was Admiral Mirkalla.  Anakin thought the man had aged well since he last had seen him.  He stretched out his feelings in the Force and perceived the commanding officer to be calm and poised.  It was very reassuring.  "It's been a while, Admiral," he said in greeting, striding forward to shake the man's hand.  

"Yes it has, Master Skywalker," Mirkalla nodded.  He immediately noticed the tall Padawan learner hanging back a few paces behind the Jedi Master.  "And this must be your daughter?"  The physical resemblance between Anakin and the young woman was uncanny; were they not so plainly a generation apart in age, he might have thought they were twins.  

"It is that obvious?" Anakin laughed.  "Admiral, meet my daughter Danaé Skywalker."  He waved her forward.  "Danaé, I'd like to introduce you to Admiral Mirkalla.  He and I have served together in the past." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Danaé bowed respectfully and shook his hand. 

"The pleasure is all mine," Mirkalla insisted.  "The more Skywalkers we have on hand, the better."  

Anakin glanced at the admiral with a look of concern, wondering if the news had gotten worse.  "What is the latest word from the reconnaissance team?"  

"We're minimizing transmissions to ensure they can't be easily detected.  They report in every four hours."  Mirkalla began to lead the pair of tan-robed Jedi toward the rear of the docking bay.  "The last one was half an hour ago.  Captain Solo advised that they have narrowed the search area considerably, but they've yet to locate the frigate." 

"The Vyhrragians are being quite disciplined," Anakin nodded.  "I didn't really expect to you say anything different."  He paused, casting his gaze around the enormous docking bay.  "When is the corvette from Naboo expected?" 

"Any time now," Mirkalla answered.  "Certainly before the next scheduled report from the team.  That little transport your wife is on has an old hyperdrive; it's practically obsolete.  Not like the one on your ship," he chuckled.  "You made it here all the way from Coruscant in the time it's taken them to travel from Naboo." 

Anakin smiled broadly.  Very subtly his shoulders straightened up and his chest puffed out.  "Not many starships in the galaxy can compete with mine, Admiral." 

---

The young Twi'lek secretary stared at the pair of female humans standing patiently in the lavishly appointed waiting room of the Office of the Sergeant-at-Arms in the Galactic Senate building.  The older woman, probably in her mid-forties, wore a finely tailored royal blue formal gown.  Her dark brown hair, solid gray at the temples with streaks throughout, was swept up in a seashell spiral at the back of her head.  The teenaged girl, probably her daughter, was dressed in an understated powder blue dress and had a long braid of light brown hair.  

The secretary's lekku twitched in consternation.  The Sergeant-at-Arms was on his way to greet them personally.  He never did that for anyone, including newly elected Senators.  But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out who this woman was.  __

Just then her boss burst through the open doorway and rushed forward to the pair.  "Senator Bellion?  Is it really you?"  The white-haired elderly man clasped the older woman into a tight embrace. 

"Yes, Richon, it's me," Sabé admitted with a bit of embarrassment.  "And it's _former_ Senator Bellion, thank you very much."  She indicated the girl to her right.  "You remember my daughter Nalé?" 

"Yes, of course.  You certainly have grown, my dear."  When Nalé blushed and looked down at the floor, he turned back to her mother.  "You know what I say," the Sergeant-at-Arms teased, "once a Senator, always a Senator." 

Sabé shook her head and chuckled.  "Well, I'm not here as a Senator.  Not really."  She opened a small portfolio in her hand and withdrew a single durasheet document.  It was embossed with multiple formal seals and written in elaborate script.  "Here are the credentials," she sighed.  "I have agreed to stand in for Leia Organa in the Naboo delegation until she returns to Coruscant." 

The old man nodded solemnly.  "I do hope she is released or rescued soon," he frowned.  "I'm becoming almost as fond of her as I am of you."  He slid the durasheet into his own portfolio, then passed two identification badges and access cards to Sabé.  "You're cleared and ready."  

Sabé nodded.  "They're debating her capture now, aren't they?  I'd better get to the chamber right away." 

"Yes, they are.  Would you like me to walk to you over?" 

"No need," she winked.  "I remember the way." 

With that, she and her old friend embraced briefly again before Sabé and Nalé bid farewell to a seemingly very flustered secretary and headed toward the Naboo delegation's pod in the Senate hall.  Sabé had been there so many times she didn't even have to consciously think of the path her feet should take – they made their way of their own accord.  

For almost six months after the Battle of Geonosis many years ago, Padmé had gone into hiding with Anakin.  During that time Sabé heard from Padmé very rarely and saw them only once, when she secretly provided some supplies for their starship.  When Padmé finally had stopped her subterfuge after Darth Sidious' death, she not only was alive and married, which Sabé had known, but also pregnant with twins and resolved to resign her post in the Senate.  Sabé initially had been reluctant to believe that Padmé wanted to step down, but after discussing it together she understood Padmé's changed priorities and her decision to pursue her goals by other means – as a professor at the University of Naboo, not as an elected official.  At Padmé's urging and with her assistance, Sabé easily had won the special election to fill the remaining three and a half years of Padmé's term.  She then won two full terms in office of her own.  After over fifteen years in the Senate, she had retired to raise her children and focus on Naboo-sector local politics.  And two years ago, Padme's daughter Leia had trounced handily Sabé's one-term successor to claim the seat herself.  Sabé's daughter Sarré had been Leia's campaign manager and now was her most trusted handmaiden.  

But Leia was missing.  She had been taken prisoner, if not killed, by Vyhrragian forces.  There had been no word about her for almost two standard days.  In the current crisis atmosphere, and especially with its own Senator being directly involved, the Naboo system could not afford to be unrepresented in the Senate.  Sabé already was on Coruscant and without hesitation had accepted Queen Vivonia's request to serve again temporarily.  

Sabé strode confidently into Naboo's pod, with Nalé on her heels, to find Representative Tickis waiting for her.  The young Gungan was quite polished and professional, at least from what she had heard from Sarré.  Quite unlike Padmé's old friend Jar Jar Binks, who was Tickis' uncle.  Or cousin.  Some relation, anyway.  

"Welcome, Senator Bellion," the Gungan greeted her in crisp, unaccented Basic.  He handed her a small datapad.  "I've been making notes on the debate.  This should catch you up very quickly." 

"Thank you, Representative," she acknowledged with a nod.  "This is most unexpected." 

"I prepare these notes all the time for Leia," he replied, inadvertently slipping into the informal usage of the office the way Leia ran it.  "Unless you don't want them?"  

"No, no, please," Sabé smiled.  "Do what you always do.  I'm only here for a few days."  Her eyes met Tickis' – they both knew that might not be true, but they were going to operate on the assumption that it was.  As she turned to face Nalé, her daughter preempted her.  

"We've met, Mom," she groaned.  "Sarré introduced me a long time ago." 

Sabé decided to let the attitude pass without a response.  Nalé did not have Sarré's love for politics, but Leia's Coruscant office was understaffed at the moment and Sabé needed someone she could trust on hand.  And, really, what did she expect by bringing a fifteen-year-old girl to the boring Senate against her will during a school vacation?  Sabé read through the notes, then lifted her head to listen to the raging debate among the delegates.  The tone was far more acrimonious than Tickis' notes revealed.  

Under Chancellor Trellem, the Senate had shifted styles.  Instead of a series of unconnected and unresponsive speeches by each legislator, true parliamentary argument was the order of the day.  And at the moment, two of the current Senate's master debaters were sparring head-to-head.  

Senator Rylla of Ryloth, a corpulent Twi'lek, was a member of the Chancellor's peace faction.  "What proof do we have," he was demanding bombastically, "that Senator Organa has even been kidnapped?  I am fully and completely unwilling to make any change in policy based on unsubstantiated rumors!  Negotiations, both public and private, are proceeding.  We must not overreact." 

Senator Bail Millius of Alderaan, only a few years older than Leia but undisputed leader of the defense faction, raged back.  "What proof?  The Senator surely understands Basic.  Did he not witness the Navy's briefing in this chamber this morning?"  A loud collective guffaw echoed through the spacious room as dozens of Senators enjoyed the jab at Rylla's expense.  "I ask you, colleagues, how many more times will we sit back and do nothing as Argis flaunts the laws of the Republic?" 

"Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding in respect to this incident," Rylla suggested.  "Or perhaps Senator Organa was taken by pirates masquerading as Vyhrragian military.  Perhaps even rogue elements of Argis' own forces seek to discredit him.  Until we know the truth, we cannot rush to judgment." 

"The truth?  You can't handle the truth!"  Millius now truly was enraged at his opponent.  "Argis is seizing planets with impunity.  Raising a massive army and navy, one already greater than most planetary forces of the Core.  Denying access to Holonet reporters.  Censoring news broadcasts.  And now he has taken hostage a member of this august body.  Can you not see it?  This is nothing short of an act of war!"  

Chancellor Trellem, from high up on the central podium, finally stepped in to restore a measure of decorum.  "This tragic development is only another small step in our dispute with Argis and his New Justice movement.  Senator Rylla is correct.  Until we have better information, we should not act hastily.  Yet Senator Millius is right to remind us that at some point violation piled upon illegality will cumulatively create a situation in which action must be taken.  I think perhaps he overstates his case, however.  Even if Argis has seized the Senator from Naboo, it may not be an act of war."  

Sabé slammed her left palm on the console's large red button and triggered the drive mechanism with her right hand.  The Chancellor had misplayed his hand badly.  First, he should have been aware that the galaxy's leading authority on the laws of war had arrived in Naboo's pod.  Second, the woman for whom she was substituting was an unabashed member of Millius' defense faction.  Third, Sabé never had liked Trellem anyway.  So she was going to savage him for his careless statement and score a few points on Millius' behalf in the process.  The pod zipped quickly toward the debating arena below.  When Trellem recognized her rising to her feet at its front, she saw his face fall.  

Inside, Sabé was brimming with anticipation.  Nalé was too young to remember her mother at the height of her influence in the Senate, when she had been one of the chamber's most intimidating orators.  Maybe watching the ease with which she was about to humiliate the Supreme Chancellor would give her daughter a new perspective.  

It wasn't so bad to be back after all. 

---

Leia adjusted herself on the floor of her cell.  She was sure it had been at least two standard days since her capture; the hard tiles were becoming increasingly uncomfortable.  And she felt disgusting.  The puny dribbles of water she could coax from the sink barely sufficed to wash her hands, and she desperately wanted a shower and a change of clothes.  It didn't seem likely anytime soon.  

She had looked carefully over every square inch of the cell, hoping to find some means of escape.  She hadn't.  And, anyway, she admitted to herself afterwards, where exactly was she planning to go if she made it out?  She had no idea how to get to a hangar, and it seemed unlikely the Vyhrragians would let her fly away in a starfighter even if she could hot-wire one.  So she was stuck in here.  

The clomping of a pair of boots in the hallway caught her attention.  The metal sliding box at the base of the door clanged loudly, then slid into her cell.  Leia crawled across the floor and looked inside.  The container held a bottle of water and a large bowl filled with foul-smelling gruel of some kind.  

She leaned against the nearby wall and pondered what to do.  She had refused to eat any of their food or drink any of the liquids the Vyhrragians had provided, afraid they might be poisoned with a toxin or contaminated with a mind-altering drug to ease the interrogation she was confident was coming at some point.  Her stomach ached sharply from hunger pains, however, and she would become delirious from thirst sooner or later.  

_If they want me dead_, she decided, _then they would have killed me already by now.  So it's probably not poisoned.  And I can't hold out forever.  I'll just have to take my chances._  She reached inside the box and retrieved the bottle and bowl.  

The gruel tasted even worse than it smelled, but it was food.  Maybe even nourishing.  After a few bites, she concentrated even harder and successfully suppressed her gag reflex.  She devoured the rest of the slop as quickly as she could to get it over with.  Then she placed the bowl back in the bin and scooted across the floor to the far wall.  She waited.  And waited some more.  Leia wanted to be sure the food was going to stay down before she drank the water.  

Convinced after several more minutes it was safe to proceed, she chugged down the entire bottle of water in one massive gulp.  She finally realized how tired and weak she had become when it took seven tries to toss the bottle back into the sliding box from only a few feet away.  

She braced her back against the wall and hugged her knees to her chest.  An hour later, she still was feeling no ill effects from the meal.  Relieved, she decided it must have been the right decision.  

At least if she was going to be here a while longer, she wouldn't be quite so miserable.  

---

With Jenny, Artoo, and Threepio trailing her, Padmé reached the bottom of the naval corvette's boarding ramp.  She wore an elegant blue dress and carried only her small shoulder bag with her; Bryon had insisted that his men would unload and deliver their luggage later.  Quickly she scanned the gigantic docking bay of the _Invictus_, looking for one person and one person only.  

At first she didn't see him.  The _Lady Vader_ was resting on its landing gear across the expansive space, so she knew he was here.  Then her eyes caught two figures in the telltale tan robes rushing toward the corvette.  Without thinking she let the bag fall to the floor and broke into a run.  

"Ani!" she called to him pointlessly, for she knew full well he not only saw her but also sensed her in the Force.  

After a few seconds, husband and wife reached each other.  Anakin grasped Padmé firmly by the waist, lifted her off her feet, and twirled her around several times as he planted a wonderfully gentle kiss on her lips.  When he set her down again, he pulled her against him forcefully and buried his face against her neck.  "I missed you so much, angel," he agonized forlornly, his voice barely audible.  

"I missed you too," she whispered, choking back tears.  The fierce intensity of their embrace expressed their gut-wrenching anxiety for Leia, and their unshakable determination to rescue her, better than words ever could.  

They simply stood there locked tightly against each other, relishing finally being together again.  Everything else could wait.  

Jenny scooped up Padmé's bag and went straight to Danaé, knowing she would prefer a conversation to waiting aimlessly for her parents to end their display of affection.  "Bryon's on the ship with his troops," Jenny told her while they shared a brief hug in greeting.  "He'll be out shortly." 

"That's good," Danaé smiled.  "I haven't seen him in a while.  We have a lot to catch up about." 

"When you do," Jenny nudged her with an elbow, "ask him about Sarré.  We're dying to know if they're officially together right now or not."  

Danaé looked over, confused.  "Is she here too?" 

"Yes," Jenny nodded.  "Padmé couldn't exactly say no to her about this."  

"True," Danaé agreed somberly, then let her face brighten again.  "I'll see what I can find out."  

"You're our best shot right now," Jenny teased.  "Feel free to try a mind trick if you need to." 

Danaé appreciated the levity and gave Jenny another hug.  A quick glance showed her parents still unmoving, clutching each other desperately.  All she wanted to do was briefly say hello to her mother, and she didn't feel like disturbing them just for that.   

Off to the side, the droids were left to fend for themselves as always.  Artoo toodled a query.  

"No, I don't know where he is," Threepio replied in annoyance.  "But Master Anakin's ship is here, so I'm confident he is as well." 

From behind them came a series of squawks and chirps that could only be one droid.  Threepio turned his body to face that direction and Artoo rotated his top around.  Sure enough, approaching at a rapid rolling pace was R2-J2, an astromech droid who looked like a black-and-gold version of Artoo.  This droid, whom everyone called Jaytoo, was Anakin's personal creation.  He had built the droid especially for the _Lady Vader_ and designed his tools and computers to complement his own abilities.  Jaytoo's skills in astrogation and repair probably were superior to Artoo's.  Comparatively speaking, though, Jaytoo was a weak computer slicer and could contribute little to space combat analysis.  But that was exactly what Anakin wanted.  

Artoo warbled a happy greeting in return, and Threepio stepped forward to pat Jaytoo on the dome.  "Why thank you," he said with excitement, "we did have a pleasant stay on Naboo with Mistress Padmé.  We have so many interesting things to tell you…" 

Following Jenny and Danaé toward the far wall of the docking bay and its entrance to the rest of the destroyer, Threepio started ahead, prattling on and on as he walked.  Wheeling behind on three legs each, Artoo and Jaytoo turned to go after him.  As they did, they let out very quiet amused bloops to each other and spun their domes quickly back and forth.  It was the astromech equivalent of a shaking head and a "Doesn't this guy ever shut up?" 

--- 

They gathered around a table in an interior conference room on the bridge of the _Invictus_ for the expected status report from the reconnaissance team.  Anakin sat at the head, closest to the intercom speaker.  Padmé was at his left and Admiral Mirkalla on his right.  Jenny and Sarré were on Padmé's side of the table, Bryon and Danaé with the admiral.  

Right on schedule the intercom buzzed and the communications officer patched the transmission through.  "Bravo Base, this is Bravo Two.  Confirmation requested," said Mara's voice. 

"Bravo Two, encryption confirmed.  Proceed," announced the officer, who then immediately clicked himself off the feed.  

"What can you tell me, Mara?" Anakin asked.  

"Nothing good, nothing bad, Master," Mara reported calmly.  "We're continuing to clear large areas of space, and we're closer to pinning down where the frigate is.  But there is much left to do.  It will be hours, if not days.  The data is on its way."  

"I know you're doing your best," Anakin responded reassuringly.  "And it's better to be careful and deliberate than act in a rush and miss something."

"Yes, Master."

"Have you and Luke used the Force to assist the search?"  

"Without informing Captain Solo, yes we have, Master," Mara answered.  "Although our efforts have become increasingly difficult."  She paused, making Anakin suspect she was nervous to report her analysis.  "We believe there may be a Force-user aboard the frigate who is interfering with our attempts to locate her." 

"I also have encountered resistance when I have tried to check on Leia," Anakin informed her.  "Trust in the Force, my young Padawan.  It will not mislead you."  For now, he decided not to tell her about the two black-cloaked figures in Leia's frantic Force message or the Jedi Council's conclusion that the Sith once again were threatening the galaxy.  The logical conclusion was that the Sith had seized Leia and now were trying to block the Jedi from finding her easily.  But he wanted Mara and Luke to fulfill their mission on their own. 

The intercom beeped to signal that the data had been received.  "Is there anything else, Master?" 

Even if he didn't mention the Sith directly, he didn't want them to do anything foolish.  Like he might have done at their age.  "Remember, Mara, locate and track only.  Do not engage.  Remind Luke as well."

"Yes, Master."

"And tell Captain Solo I look forward to meeting him.  May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you, Master," she responded before cutting off the link.  

The seven of them discussed the options for half an hour before ultimately deciding to continue with the current plan.  They would have to have faith that the two X-Wings and the _Falcon_ could accomplish their mission quickly.  With that conclusion reached, Anakin and Padmé asked for and received some privacy in the conference room.  

He gave her all the details of his vision from Leia, the Council's deliberations, and Obi-Wan's meeting with Mace and Yoda.  She shared a wealth of information about the ongoing debates in the Senate and the relative numbers of the peace faction and defense faction.  After about an hour of discussion, they had circled back to the two principal issues at hand: the Sith's return and the Senate's deadlock.  

"Well," Anakin started again, "it seems unlikely the Sith have infiltrated the Senate the way Sidious did, don't you think?"

"I agree," Padmé nodded.  "These disputes are bona fide, not manufactured."  

"So where does that leave us?"

"I can see three possibilities.  One, Argis is working directly with the Sith.  Two, Argis is a legitimate political dissident who is being unwittingly manipulated by the Sith for their own ends.  Three, Argis has nothing to do with the Sith and his involvement in Leia's capture has been faked, probably to provoke a war." 

"Makes sense to me," he concurred.  "Now we just have to figure out a way to determine which of those it is.  And I have no idea how we do that." 

Before Padmé could answer, the intercom buzzed.  "Jedi Master Skywalker?"

"Yes?"

"Admiral Mirkalla advises you to turn on the Holonet now, sir.  Something you need to see."

"Thank you."

Anakin flicked the switch and brought up the news network on the main viewscreen.  It was broadcasting live the latest ranting speech by Argis, delivered as always from a balcony of his royal palace on Vyhrrag.  

"… have hindered the galaxy for too long.  It is time we moved on to the future."  Argis was a tall and thin human male in his late twenties with pale skin, short black hair, and a neatly trimmed black beard and moustache.  "So today I come before you to announce that the Jedi Order no longer holds a monopoly on the power of the Force."

Anakin and Padmé exchanged startled, worried glances.  

From behind a curtain, two tall figures dressed in white tunics and huge billowing white cloaks strode forward to take up positions at Argis' shoulders.  Their faces were not visible, and Anakin could not sense them through the Force over the electronic feed.  "I have formed the Crusaders of Justice," Argis continued.  "Together with the military forces of the New Justice movement, the Crusaders will fight for the weak and impoverished.  We will use the Force for the good of all citizens of the galaxy.  Its strength is truly miraculous and great.  For too long it has been held in secret by a small group of self-proclaimed guardians of its power.  Now it can be shared with all, for the benefit of all.  The Force is not a mystical and incomprehensible thing.  It is a weapon for all that is good and honorable and right in the galaxy.  A weapon of justice."  With a flourish, Argis ended his speech to the riotous cheering of the thousands in attendance.  

Anakin flicked off the viewscreen and leaned back in his chair.  He took a deep breath and looked over to see that Padmé had done the same.  "Now we have part of our answer," he winked.  

"Hmm?"  

"I think we can eliminate your third possibility, don't you?"

She looked deeply into his eyes.  "Oh, right.  Yeah."  She took another deep breath.  "Do you think these Crusaders of his are the Sith?"

"Yes."  He ran his fingers through his short gray hair.  "I suppose it's possible they're not.  But I would be very surprised." 

"So the only issue is whether he's knowingly cooperating or is being duped." 

"That's right."  Anakin rose from his chair and stepped over to stand in front of her.  "And that's not something we can determine right now.  But I haven't seen Bryon in a while and Danaé wants to see you."

She pulled herself to her feet by his hands and kissed him tenderly on the lips.  "And that is something we can do right now."

"Indeed, angel, it is."  Hand-in-hand, they walked together out of the conference room. 

---

Danaé opened her eyes and looked at her fingers.  They were pale and heavily wrinkled.  Despite the joy of the almost-too-hot bath, she knew it was time to get out.  She found it hard to believe the _Invictus_ had guest facilities this elaborate, but apparently the Navy had decided that it was necessary for those times when Senators or other dignitaries might be aboard.  For now she was delighted that the Skywalkers had the run of the place.  

The warm heat of the full-body dryer unit finished its task, and she slipped into a simple pale blue nightgown and pulled on a matching heavy plush robe.  When the next two updates from Luke, Mara, and Captain Solo also had come back negative on the Vyhrragian frigate's location, Anakin and Padmé had agreed that the best plan was for everyone to retire for the night.  In the morning, hopefully there would be better news.  

After the hours of meditation with her father on the _Lady Vader_, her mind remained clear and placid for the first time in quite a while.  She also felt pleased to have been able to spend some time alone with her mother.  She still had not caught up with Bryon and suspected she knew why.  Thrilled about getting a restful night's sleep, Danaé waved open the refresher door and stepped out into her bedroom.  As she did so, she relaxed her mind too – and was bombarded by powerful emotions in the Force she should have anticipated but forgot to prepare herself for.  

From what seemed like her right was a blazing presence in the Force so strong she almost couldn't read it.  Like a supernova, it nearly blinded her other perceptions entirely.  Its radiance was filled with indescribably happy emotions of all kinds, but mostly a profoundly deep and abiding love touched with undercurrents of desire and pure serenity.  The only aspect that made it uncomfortable for Danaé was that she couldn't perceive her mother and father separately.

_Can you keep this to yourselves, please?_ she asked reluctantly through the Force.  The immediate reply was more a wave of thought than words, a combination of sincere apology and giddy embarrassed giggle.  As suddenly as it had blasted into her awareness, the shining brilliance was utterly gone.  Danaé smirked.  It was amazing what her father could achieve with the Force when he remembered the need to do it. 

With the overpowering light gone, another wave of emotion assaulted her from the left.  She had thought Jenny was taking the room on that side, but apparently not.  Instead she sensed Bryon and Sarré alone together.  Although the emotions were similar to her parents', in other ways they differed completely.  Contentment and desire were there, certainly, but there was a quiet desperation to the love, a relentlessness to the happiness, and a driving pulse of anxiety beneath all of it.  Despite their elation, the two young presences hardly were serene.  And they were totally incapable of dampening their radiance in the Force.  

With a lung-emptying sigh, Danaé picked up her access card and lightsaber from her bedside stand and dropped them into a deep pocket of the robe.  She wiggled her toes into a pair of slippers and left her room, walking down the hallway to the small lounge of the guest suite.  

A warm cup of cocoa in her hands, she stood at the wide viewport of the room.  She was on the side of the destroyer facing away from Sullust, so she looked out at the huge expanse of stars and dropped her mind into another peaceful Force meditation.  In the living Force, she could sense all the activity on the destroyer, the hundreds of soldiers carrying out their duties and hundreds more sound asleep.  It was a pleasant and soothing tingle.  

She had no idea how long it was before her mind sensed another presence coming up the hallway toward the lounge.  In the meantime she apparently had unconsciously finished her drink.  She stepped over to make another cup as Sarré poked her head around the corner.  "Hi," she whispered.  She wore a thick white plush robe over a white nightgown.  

"Come on in," Danaé smiled, struggling to keep her face from giving anything away.  The two young women did not say a word to each other as they made themselves cocoa and walked over to the viewport together.  

"You're here because of us, aren't you?" Sarré asked after a while.  "We tried to be quiet."  

"No, it's not that," Danaé giggled, patting Sarré on the shoulder with her left hand.  "It's what I can sense in the Force, and you can't control it."  She looked more closely at Sarré now.  She had brushed her shoulder-length blonde hair thoroughly and washed her face, and all the gloss was gone from her slightly swollen lips.  _All of Leia's tricks_, Danaé chuckled to herself.  _If I didn't know to look…_

"Oh," Sarré replied, looking down into her cup.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't think about that." 

Danaé reached her hand around to Sarré's opposite shoulder and pulled her into a half-hug of sorts.  "Look," she insisted calmly, "I don't mind.  You haven't seen each other in a long time.  You need to…  get reacquainted.  I understand."  In the Force, she could tell that Sarré was missing every second away from Bryon, although the playful glimmer in her spirit suggested he probably was soundly asleep right now.  

"Okay," Sarré sighed.  Her lavender eyes looked up suddenly at Danaé, filled with fear.  "Do you think your Dad…" 

Before Sarré could finish the question, Danaé nearly choked on her sip of cocoa.  When she found her voice again, she sputtered in laughter.  "Um, no.  He was…  let's just say…  preoccupied."  

That, finally, relaxed Sarré's mood.  "Oh.  I see."  

When the giggling subsided, Danaé looked closely at Sarré again.  "You really love him, don't you?" 

Sarré nodded shyly.  "I always have," she whispered.  

"My parents know," Danaé suggested gently.  "You and Bryon don't need to hide it anymore."  

Sarré wouldn't meet her gaze.  "I think we know that.  Intellectually, anyway.  But I don't think we're ready to admit it yet.  Not to their faces."  

_We're not or he's not?_ Danaé wondered but kept the thought to herself.  Then she sensed a third presence headed their way.  "My Mom's coming," she warned Sarré in case she wanted to leave.  She stayed.  

"Hello, girls."  Padmé strode into the lounge with a noticeable bounce of happiness in her step and strong emotions of contentment and satisfaction peeling off her into the Force.  Her unbound long brown hair was an utterly tangled mess and hung out in all directions over her fiery red nightgown and robe.  She clearly had not looked in a mirror, because she had made no effort to cover the deep bruise at the base of her neck that had not been there several hours ago.  

"Hi, Mom," Danaé smiled.  It amazed her that the serenity she had perceived earlier still hung over her mother like a second robe.  

"Hello, Padmé," Sarré said far more quietly.  For years now Sarré had been under strict orders to call Anakin and Padmé by their first names.  It still seemed unnatural to her, but she forced herself to do it.  The lecture she received each time she forgot was plenty of incentive to remember.  

A cup of cocoa in her hands, Padmé joined them at the viewport.  "The stars really are lovely tonight, aren't they?" 

"Yes," Sarré agreed, "they're beautiful.  Even brighter than on Naboo." 

In the Force, Danaé could sense their feelings.  They weren't talking about the stars.  Not really.  For the first time in a while, Danaé's thoughts drifted to her own romantic life.  More accurately, to the lack of it.  Her father and mother shared the most deeply intense and mature love imaginable and were more powerfully happy together than any other couple Danaé ever had encountered.  Leia had loved Jarren Organa with a passion that Danaé had been able to feel even when he wasn't around.  Bryon and Sarré had been in love since before either of them understood what love was.  And her older brother, well, Luke Heartbreaker was a man to be reckoned with in the Jedi Temple.  

Danaé wondered if something was wrong with her.  In many ways, she was a Skywalker through and through.  Except in this.  All the rest seemed to need romantic attachments in their lives, to thrive vibrantly with them and struggle in their absence.  Yet she never had felt such emotions in herself.  She was completely at home in the Force, embracing all the life energy that flowed constantly in the galaxy around her and in her own body.  In the classical Jedi way, she felt unlimited compassion for all living beings.  True, she loved her family more deeply and more plainly than other things.  But she doubted she ever would feel in her own life the special emotions Padmé and Sarré had tonight.  Later, when things were calmer and the crisis was over, she would figure out whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.  Or maybe neither and just the way she was.  In the meantime, she stretched out into the Force again and enjoyed vicariously the sheer happiness of her two companions. 

"Yes," Danaé whispered to no one in particular, though she guessed they could hear.  "Yes they are."


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The quintet of Special Forces Army officers walked slowly and deliberately along the edges of the main docking bay on the Republic Navy destroyer _Invictus_.  The vast room was several hundred yards across, so it took almost half an hour for each circuit they made.  The naval ensigns and maintenance crews attending to the various warships and starfighters in the bay gave the five menacing men in black fatigues plenty of leeway.  

Lieutenant Bryon Skywalker was in the middle, hands clasped at the small of his back.  To his left were Sergeant Krannar, originally from Fondor, and Sergeant Pryzill, a Zabrak from Commenor.  To his right were Sergeant Allitisi, a comparatively short but quite fierce soldier from Eriadu, and First Sergeant Graff of Alderaan.  

As their lengthy strides brought them around a corner of the room and began the long march down another side of the immense hangar, Bryon turned to the Alderaanian.  They had been assigned together by chance when Bryon first was promoted.  Immediately their teamwork had been remarkable, and he and Will Graff had served together ever since.  "For the moment, let's work from the premise that this is a standard Vyhrragian frigate we're dealing with.  No strange customizations.  We have four squads.  Go."  

This was how they always considered their options for upcoming missions.  The five commanders would walk together and talk out the possibilities until they reached a consensus on the best alternative.  Although his rank of course allowed Bryon simply to give orders, he quickly had learned that this method not only earned considerable respect from his subordinates but also usually resulted in superior decisions to those he would have made alone.  So he pushed aside his preconceptions about the potential rescue operation and listened.  

"By seizing a Galactic Senator, I think the Vyhrragians have signaled a very aggressive posture," Will began.  "That makes me think a simple extraction would be inadvisable.  We would be better off executing a command capture."  He paused and glanced at the others; they nodded in agreement.  "The most likely insertion point is their main hangar bay; presumably we can get the Navy to sneak or blast our way in.  First squad secures the hangar for further insertions and for extraction of the Senator.  Second squad takes the bridge.  Third squad to the engineering facilities to disable the hyperdrives.  That way we have a backup against a long battle for the bridge and we create another front on which they have to defend.  Fourth squad retrieves the prisoner."  

"Sounds reasonable," Bryon concurred.  "Thoughts?"  

"I wonder if it wouldn't be better to take a harder offensive," Allitisi proposed.  "Two squads for the bridge and two squads for the prisoner.  We'd give up the backup options in hangar and engineering, I know, but I think we'd grab control faster.  And more importantly get to the Senator more quickly.  There's a possibility they'd try to kill her as soon as they realize we've attacked."  

"I agree with that last point," Krannar said.  "I think it's critical to get to the prisoner as rapidly as we possibly can.  Otherwise everything else we do might be moot."  

"Me too," Pryzill nodded.  

"Well, you all know Senator Organa is my sister, and I'm pretty sure we're here only because my father demanded it," Bryon sighed.  "Of course I want to be sure she's safe.  Purely personally, that's the only thing that matters to me.  But listen: don't let that fact have any consideration in your opinion.  Don't treat this any differently than if we had any other Senator involved.  I insist."  

"Understood, Lieutenant," Allitisi confirmed.  "But that's not why I suggested what I did.  It doesn't matter who the prisoner is in this scenario.  The only reason we're going in is to rescue.  The command capture itself is derivative of that mission; it increases the likelihood of success."

"He's right," Will interjected.  "I've changed my mind.  My initial idea was more like an incapacitation strike than a rescue.  But it's more important to get access to the prisoner immediately than it is to cover all the contingencies.  Two and two is better."

Krannar and Pryzill signaled their approval too.  

"Two and two it is," Bryon concluded.  "What battle strategy?" 

"I think we must anticipate total resistance from the brownshirts," Will suggested.  "We should respond in kind.  Free fire."  

A mission carried out under free fire orders instructed their soldiers to shoot to kill any and all opposition.  If enemies surrendered, they would be shot with stun bolts and incapacitated until the operation objectives were completed.  That never actually had happened on any of their missions, however.  Free fire meant lots of brownshirts were going to die.  

"Free fire," Krannar agreed.  

"Free fire," said Pryzill.  

"Free fire," Allitisi finished for the quartet of sergeants.  

"Two and two.  Free fire."  Bryon unclasped his hands and ran them through his short brown hair a few times.  Then he interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms, palms out.  His knuckles cracked loudly as he blew out a deep breath.  "I agree."  He drew back his arms and hooked his thumbs into his belt.  "Your turn, Krannar.  We get aboard and find out that the frigate has a customized floor plan.  Four squads.  Go." 

---

The three women sat at points of a triangle around a small circular table.  In front of them the holoprojector buzzed and a foot-tall image rose into the air.  

Sabé's head and shoulders were facing Padmé.  "Is the transmission clear?"

"Yes, you're fine," Padmé smiled at her old friend.  "I really appreciate you filling in for Leia.  Vivonia's young.  I wasn't sure she'd make a decision Leia would respect.  You made it so much easier because I know she trusts you completely."  

"I would do anything I could to help Leia, you know that," Sabé said as she returned the smile.  "And I got to give Trellem the gundark treatment this afternoon.  It was the most fun I've had in months."  

"I bet Nalé had no idea her mother had that in her, did she?"  

"She sure didn't."  

Padmé laughed.  "You'll have to send me the videorecord."  

"On its way," Sabé winked.  "And my other daughter?"

The youngest of the three reached out and spun the holoprojector at its rotating base.  "Hi, Mom." 

"Hi, Sarré.  How are you holding up?"

"Okay, I guess," Sarré answered sadly.  She decided to be honest.  "I'm really worried about Leia." 

Sabé gave her daughter a sympathetic smile.  "We all are, sweetie.  It's okay to be upset."  The grin took on a playful cast.  "Did you get to see Bryon?" 

Sarré's cheeks turned a light shade of pink despite the fact she was concentrating very hard on fighting it.  "Uh huh.  He's well." 

Her mother spared her any more torment.  For now.  "That's good.  Can I say hello to Jenny?"  

"Hello, Sabé," Jenny smiled as she spun the projector again.  "It's good to see you." 

"Yes, it is," Sabé replied.  "So, shall we get started?  The others are on their way."  

"Very well," Padmé said, completing the image's rotation to face her again.  "How did the debate go today?" 

"About what I expected.  Nobody swayed anyone's viewpoint.  Until the Senate has a fuller picture of exactly what has taken place, it will be impossible to change anything."  Sabé then summarized the main points made by both sides and her assessment of the relative strengths of the two factions.  "That's my impression.  Of course, I've only been here half a day." 

"I'm sure you're right on the mark," Padmé told her.  "It's all perfectly consistent with everything I've heard."  

"At the end of the session, Senator Breena of Rodia gave the report of the negotiation task force.  Apparently Argis has become a bit conciliatory," Sabé explained skeptically.  "On behalf of the group, Breena introduced a resolution proposing that a summit be held between delegates from the Republic and representatives of the New Justice movement.  The summit would seek to resolve the crisis with face-to-face negotiation." 

"Interesting," Padmé replied, furrowing her brow as she pondered this unexpected development.  "I've always believed in exhausting all peaceful options before resorting to war.  But given Argis' record, I don't see how Breena and Rylla and Trellem can think he can be handled this way.  And I felt that even before he took Leia."

"I know," Sabé agreed.  "It seems so futile.  I suppose it can't hurt to make the attempt, though.  I just hope they don't have a lot riding on this."  

"Me too," Padmé sighed.  

Sabé's face turned away for a moment.  "Thank you, Representative Tickis," she said over her shoulder.  "Hold on," she indicated to Padmé.  After a few seconds the image shifted in width and a second head appeared over the table.  

"Hello, Padmé, Miss Antilles, Miss Bellion," Obi-Wan greeted the trio.  "I apologize for my tardiness.  It can be quite difficult to conclude a conversation with Master Mundi.  He doesn't take a hint."  

Padmé chuckled.  "I've heard that from Anakin.  What can you tell us, Obi-Wan?"  From the look on his face, she knew he was expecting her to dispense with idle pleasantries.  

"I have nothing new to add to what Anakin already knows.  And Sabé is a far greater expert on the Senate than I am.  I'll assist you any way I can in evaluating the situation, of course."

"Thank you.  You know how highly I value your judgment."  Padmé proceeded to share her analysis of the way the votes in the Senate would line up on several different possible courses of action, including the summit proposal.  

A few minutes later Sabé and Obi-Wan stepped away for a short time, then returned with a third figure in their holographic image.  

"Lady Skywalker, my dear, how are you?"  Senator Bail Millius of Alderaan considered Leia to be one of his closest and most trusted advisors in the defense faction.  He sought counsel from her on almost every important issue facing the Senate during the current crisis.  And because she consulted her mother on many matters, he had become friends with Padmé as well.  Even though he was almost twenty years younger than Padmé, he treated her the same way he treated Leia.  "I don't suppose you've left that dry old Jedi Master of yours yet?  I'll wait for you as long as it takes, you know."  

Padmé smiled broadly.  This silly flirtatious game they always played helped lighten her mood.  "I'm well, thanks.  And no, I haven't, Mill," she laughed.  That was a nickname no one else in the galaxy dared call him – even Leia.  Out of respect for Padmé and former Senator Organa of Alderaan and how close those two were, soon after his election Millius had agreed that she could call him something besides Bail.  Against his will this one had stuck.  "But if it ever goes sour, you're first on my list." 

"That's all I need to hear," he winked.  "So, on to business?"  After seeing the nods all around, he first provided a number of additional details and nuances from that day's politicking and logrolling.  Then his tone became filled with outrage.  "Sabé informs me she's already told you about the resolution introduced this evening.  By my count we're down about two hundred votes to the weaklings."  Millius considered the positions asserted by the peace faction to be so foolish he had taken to using various disrespectful or derogatory epithets for them – when he held back from defamatory curses.  "Looking at what I know about the way the votes are breaking down, it doesn't appear that we even can gain any real leverage from Leia's capture.  That's a signal about how entrenched they truly have become at this point.  Even the kidnapping of a Galactic Senator means nothing to them.  It's pathetic."  

Padmé believed the peace faction delegates were acting in good faith and perceived their views as misguided rather than ridiculous.  "I agree they should see the provocation in it, Mill.  Give them the benefit of the doubt for now.  We'll know more facts out here soon, I'm sure.  Once we do, if they support our side I'm confident many Senators will join us."  

"I hope you're right, Professor," he responded calmly.  "I would prefer to believe my colleagues are rational.  I guess we'll see soon enough whether my cynicism or your idealism is right."  

Padmé nodded.  "I think you should do what you can to postpone the vote on the summit resolution as long as possible.  That might buy us the time to get the information to swing it in our favor.  Anakin will get us what we need.  I am certain of it."  

"I will do my best," Sabé promised.  

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve that I've been saving for a situation like this," Millius grinned mischievously.  "I'll do my very best as well.  You have my word."  

The six of them discussed the political aspects of the crisis for another hour.  Padmé, Sabé, and Millius had the most to say.  Jenny recently had completed an exhaustive analysis of the last three years of voting blocs in the Senate and briefly mentioned a few relevant results.  Obi-Wan had observed the Senate closely since becoming chairman of the Jedi Council and gave his perspective on the most effective arguments to emphasize.  And although Sarré did not say a word, as a learning experience about Galactic politics this was time very well spent.  

Just before their long-distance meeting ended, Millius raised one final question with Padmé.  "You have a transmission later with the Chancellor in your capacity as Special Advisor, is that right?" 

"Yes."  Padmé tilted her head and met his gaze.  She knew he was up to something.  "What would you like me to convey to him?" 

"Oh, nothing in particular.  Just remind him who you are."  Millius smirked.  "Sabé embarrassed him today.  And I want him to remember that the woman who brought down Valorum is on my side too.  Keep him honest.  Nothing more than that."

Padmé giggled.  "Mill, are you suggesting you want me to intimidate the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic?"  

"Yes.  Yes, I am."

"It would be my pleasure."

---

With Padmé occupied on her conference call, Anakin decided he should spend a few hours with Danaé.  He took very seriously his pledge to the Jedi Order two decades ago, as a condition of the acceptance of his marriage to Padmé, that he never would take one of his own children as a Padawan learner.  Brief training sessions now and then, however, were well within the permissible bounds.  

Nevertheless, in the months since Danaé's return to the Temple after her Master's disappearance on Xixus Anakin had gone out of his way to avoid playing too great a role in her training.  For the most part he let Obi-Wan, in his capacity as chairman of the Council, assume the role of her daily contact.  Every few weeks he met with her to ensure she was satisfied with the arrangements the Council had made for her.  The rest of the time she needed him not as a Jedi mentor, but as her father. 

One of Danaé's comparative disadvantages as a Jedi was her skill with a lightsaber.  She always had been competent, to be sure, and Anakin never had considered interfering with Master Trill's tutelage.  But now Anakin was certain the Sith had returned.  Against a dark-side trained opponent in a lightsaber duel to the death competent would not be good enough.  So Anakin resolved he could wait no longer to diagnose the weaknesses in her technique and help her overcome them.  

He stretched out with his feelings and located Danaé meditating deeply in an empty side docking bay on a lower level of the _Invictus_.  He chuckled to himself.  Sometimes the Force operated in unexpected ways – sometimes it was several steps ahead even of him.  She could not have picked a more perfect space for him to find her.  He paused for a moment and dropped his mind into the Force.  After a few seconds he had suppressed completely his aura in the life-energy field.  

Approaching the door to the starship hangar in the plain gray-walled hallway, he unclipped his lightsaber handle from his belt and clutched it firmly in his right hand.  With a tiny wisp of his feelings he probed Danaé's presence again and determined his shielding had prevented her from detecting him.  A wave of his hand projected a field in the Force that silenced the door opening, the ignition of his lightsaber, and the footfalls of his charge toward the cross-legged figure sitting on the floor with her back to him.  

The turquoise blade swung downward in a two-handed overhead killing strike.  For a split-second Anakin actually wondered if he would have to deactivate the weapon to avoid slaying Danaé.  At the very last possible instant, however, an emerald blade flashed out and clashed violently against his to block the blow.  She had spun around on her left knee, braced her right elbow on her upright right knee, and ducked her head beneath the screeching lightsabers.  

He pressed his weight down and forced her to roll out, disengaging her blade from his and springing to her feet after tumbling smoothly away.  He gave her no opportunity to think about what had happened or to question him or to do anything at all but react.  

Anakin rushed Danaé, raining down two-handed blows as rapidly and forcefully as he ever did with Mara, who was a stupendous fencer.  He made sure he didn't injure her, but he tested her limits and then pushed her far past them.  He watched her blocking and parrying fiercely, her wrists snapping and rolling to keep her lightsaber in position to meet his.  He drove her backward across the wide, high-ceilinged room, increasing the speed of his strikes more and more with each stride.  When he could sense his relentless assault was becoming dangerously overwhelming for her, he pivoted on his right heel and spun away in an elegant whirl, bringing the blue blade up over his head in his right hand and letting his left hand loft in the air for balance.  

Danaé spun away too and found her position, setting her feet, extending her left hand over her head, and preparing her green blade in her right hand.  She watched her father circling her and realized he was waiting for her to take the offensive.  So she did.  

An hour later Anakin finally called a halt and deactivated his lightsaber.  With three deep breaths he calmed his mind from its combat intensity and considered his physical condition.  His heartbeat was a bit elevated, his muscles a tad sore, and few beads of perspiration had formed on his forehead.  Just about what he had expected.  

"That was excellent, Danaé.  You have improved considerably since we sparred last.  When was it?  Do you remember?" 

Danaé looked at him in disbelief.  Her heart was pounding in her chest, shaking her ribs.  Her entire body ached or stung with sharp pains.  She was drenched to the bone in sweat and gasping for air.  

"About…  three…  months ago," she managed to rasp while focusing on not fainting.  

"That's right," he chuckled.  "Of course."  He sent her a burst of energy in the Force to refresh her spirit a bit, then gave her a few moments to collect herself.  "You should be very proud.  I'll admit I was surprised at how well you fought me.  You've made excellent progress." 

She bowed her head to accept his praise.  "You should let Master Windu know that," she smiled.  "He's such a great teacher.  I learned a lot from him when he worked with me." 

"Good.  Very good," he nodded.  "So tell me," he asked, testing to see how much her perceptions had increased, "how many times could I have killed you if I had wanted to?"  

She hunched over and leaned her palms against her knees.  Pondering the duel in her mind, she made an educated guess.  "About thirty-five?" 

"Close.  Forty-one."  He tilted his head a little and looked intensely into her eyes.  "Very few were mistakes of technique."

She managed a little smile.  At some point soon she might ask her father for more assistance in driving away the troubles in her feelings.  But not now.  "I know." 

That was all he needed to hear.  He sent another wave of refreshing Force energy.  "And how many openings did I leave you?"  

"None," she giggled hopelessly.  "I never had a chance." 

"Seriously, Danaé.  How many openings?"

She thought some more.  "Ten, I think." 

"Wonderful.  Ten is exactly right." Anakin walked over and wrapped his left arm around her shoulders.  "As important as it is for you to learn your weaknesses, it's imperative that you be able to perceive each and every mistake by your opponent.  It doesn't matter how many times I didn't capitalize if you kill me at my first error."  

"The best defense is a good offense?"  

"Sometimes, my girl.  Sometimes."  He squeezed her tighter and pulled her forward.  "Let's get you some shuura juice to drink before you pass out."  

---

Han checked the instruments again.  The scanners were not detecting a Vyhrragian naval frigate or even anything that could be a disguised warship.  In fact, this area of space was so deserted that no vessels of the appropriate size were anywhere to be found.  

He shifted his gaze to the grid map of this sector of the Mid Rim, just off the Corellian Trade Spine near the indefinite frontier to the Outer Rim.  The _Falcon_ and the two Jedi apprentices in their X-Wings had covered vast expanses of space from Sullust to here and still had not located the enemy ship with the captured Galactic Senator.  "We're running low on options now, Lando.  Do you think they slipped past us?"

"It's possible, I suppose," Lando replied calmly.  "But I don't think so.  We have been very precise in our methods and scans.  We would have found them."  

Han pointed in frustration at the map.  "We don't have many squares left.  And nobody's out here." 

Chewie wroofed in amusement.  

"Thanks, big guy," Han glared.  "I realize we're close to the border of Vyhrragian space.  I don't really expect any civilian ships to be in this vicinity."  

The quadrupled-encrypted communications line crackled open.  "What have you got for me, Captain Solo?" asked the sultry female voice.  

"What you've always wanted, sister," he answered seductively without missing a beat.  

Laughter rolled out of the speaker.  

Even Skywalker appreciated the humor at this point.  "What would you have said to me, I wonder?" 

"Oh, in that case I would have assumed you meant the scanning," Han cracked.  "And we have nothing."  

"Neither do we," Jade reported.  Skywalker was far to port; Jade far to starboard.  Within another few hours the entire grid search would be completed.  And it seemed increasingly likely it would be a failure.  

"If it makes you feel any better," Skywalker chuckled, "our missions aren't usually this boring.  Not always filled with combat and excitement, of course, but very rarely do we end up doing something like this." 

Han chuckled too.  "Well, to be honest it doesn't.  But thanks for trying."  

"Any time, Captain."  

Over the almost three standard days of their search, the two Jedi had continued to surprise Han with their attitudes and pleasant demeanors.  This Jade woman was a shameless flirt.  Han gave as good as he got with her, mostly because he was convinced it was all in good fun.  And Skywalker was an interesting combination of supremely confident warrior and seemingly vulnerable young man.  Several times he vaguely had expressed a level of concern for the Senator that seemed deeply personal, but Han did not feel it was his place to inquire.  

"Hey, Han, come look at this," Lando requested from the starboard-side rear cockpit seat.  "You think this could be them?"  

"Heads up, Jedi, we've got a nibble here.  Stand by."  Han unstrapped from the pilot's chair and stood over the console Lando was using.  "Show me."  

"See this?  It's transponder-silent, and it's the correct size and mass."  Lando pointed to a slowly moving blip at the far edge of the current grid square.  "It's making its way toward…  Let's see."  He ran the numbers quickly in the computer.  "Toward Xixus."

"Argis just captured that planet recently.  It's on the outer edge of his territory."  Han rubbed his stubbled chin.  "That wouldn't make sense for anyone else, would it?"  

"No, it sure wouldn't.  Not under transponder silence."  

"Chewie?"

The Wookiee rawled an affirmative reply.  

Han jumped directly back into his chair and strapped in tightly.  He tapped the communications line again.  "Break off, Jedi.  Come to us.  This is our best lead yet.  And we're all very confident here.  Data on its way."  

After only a few seconds Skywalker responded.  "I agree.  Great work, Captain."

"I concur," Jade said after another short pause.  "What would you like us to do?"  

"We have a little bit of leeway before we get to Vyhrragian space outside Xixus.  Skywalker, can you cut them off?  And Jade flank them?  I'll run up behind and try to grab as much confirmation data as we can."  

The roar of Skywalker's drives thundered along with his answer.  "On my way."  

"Roger, Captain," Jade acknowledged.  

Han slammed levers forward and tore the _Falcon_ toward the receding blip.  "Cancel everything else, Lando.  Get us every last detail about this frigate."  

"One step ahead of you, buddy," Lando grinned.  

Soon the _Falcon_ had the frigate within range of all its scanners.  Information streamed in so quickly they couldn't analyze it.  Nevertheless, it looked more and more promising with each passing minute.  

"Skywalker, how are we doing on real estate here?  If I call this in, can we make an intercept before they reach their own territory?"  Han figured Skywalker's answer would be honest.  He was a Jedi, after all.  

In the cockpit of his X-Wing Luke fought a painful internal struggle.  He wanted to save Leia.  

Now.  

Right now.  

Himself.  

A frigate full of brownshirts didn't worry him.  He could work around that, especially if Mara assisted.  

He also knew his orders from Master Kenobi were strict.  He was to locate the frigate only.  Not engage.  And especially not enter Vyhrragian space, which he nearly was doing already at this point.  So close to Xixus, there easily could be a fatal trap waiting for him. 

"I'm sorry, Captain," he finally said grimly.  "We're running out of room too quickly.  The best we can do is report back our results."  

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that," Han's voice answered over Luke's headset.  "Hmm?  Oh.  Lando says that the Special Operations Division has a solid network of spies on Xixus.  If they land there, we'll still be able to spring the Senator out."  

"That's good to know," Mara's voice replied before Luke could say anything.  

"Well, if we're heading back," Luke decided as he spoke, "then I'm getting us a definitive answer.  Be ready to run."  

"What do you have in mind, kid?"  Han's voice seemed uncharacteristically tinged with reluctance.  

Luke swerved his X-Wing into an arc that brought him around to charge directly at the targeted vessel.  "A visual I.D.  There will be no mistakes about this."  

Mara's voice intruded sharply into his mind.  _Luke, Master Kenobi gave us clear orders not to engage._

_I'm fully aware of that, Mara,_ Luke shot back.  _I'm not going to engage.  This is a single pass.  Nothing more._

_That's a pretty fine point of interpretation.  Master Kenobi would not approve._

_Master Obi-Wan's not here.  And Master Obi-Wan trusts my judgment.  You should too._  He knew he hadn't persuaded her but only frustrated her into silence.  

After a few more seconds the unidentified starship appeared as a small gray spot out Luke's cockpit canopy.  Slowly it grew larger and larger until Luke blazed past its pointed front and skimmed along its port side.  

Quite plain on the frigate were the crests of Vyhrrag.  

As soon as he cleared the enemy warship Luke increased to maximum sub-light speed and turned the nose of his X-Wing toward where the _Falcon_ and Mara were waiting.  "Go!  Go!  Go!"  

While his Arfour unit calculated the pre-arranged hyperspace jump, Luke switched frequencies.  "Bravo Base, this is Bravo Three.  Waterfall.  Repeat, waterfall."  

Watching the pinpoints of light become long streaks, Luke silently vowed to return here and rescue his twin sister.  No matter what.  


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Obi-Wan Kenobi was frustrated with his colleagues on the Jedi Council.  This discussion about the appropriate methods of training younglings in lightsaber techniques had gone nowhere for over two hours.  It was time to end it.  And he had the perfect way to change the subject completely. 

"I am leaving in two hours to join Anakin at Sullust," he announced calmly during a pause in the conversation.  

From across the circular room Master Secura, a blue-skinned female Twi'lek, looked at him in shock.  "Do you think that is wise, Obi-Wan?" 

Obi-Wan quickly glanced around the circle at the other nine Jedi Masters.  Their faces, and their presences in the Force, revealed more agreement than they intended.  It was to be expected, however.  His twenty-three years and Anakin's twenty-one gave them longest tenures by far on the present Council; the next most senior member, Master Bthitip, had been on the Council for a dozen years.  

"Aayla, do I typically take actions I believe are unwise?" he asked in amusement, a smirk across his face while he stroked his short white beard.  

The rhetorical question spoke for itself.  

"Your guidance here will be sorely missed," Master Bthitip, a male Quarren, said quietly.  

"I would be pleased to assist you in any way I can," interjected Master Krint, a male Zabrak.  

Obi-Wan sighed deeply.  There was no easy way to calm their spirits.  He tried his last resort.  "Raise your hand if you've slain a Sith Lord," he suggested mischievously.  Of course his was the only one in the air.  Then – without taking his eyes from Krint's – he used the Force to lift the front right corner of Anakin's vacant chair as though it were raising itself on his behalf.  

As he expected a warm chuckle filled the room and his colleagues found their collective center again.  

"The Chair is all yours, Barriss," Obi-Wan grinned at Master Offee, the golden-skinned near-human woman seated to his left.  "Feel free to continue the meeting without me, but I need to go pack."  

---

Padmé looked across the small round table at Anakin.  "I can't believe it.  I can't believe they actually found the frigate."  She finished tying up her long brown hair in a wrapped braid on the back of her head and rubbed the wrinkles from the front of her formal, royal purple gown.  

"I know, angel, I know," Anakin smiled, crossing his arms over the front of his tan Jedi robes.  "Our spies on Xixus have been notified.  We'll be able to get her out soon.  I promise."

"I just hope they haven't…  hurt her or…  done anything to her before we can save her."  Padmé knew Anakin was checking on Leia frequently in the Force and that nothing awful had occurred yet, but she remained extremely anxious about the situation.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  "I have to do this, don't I?"

"Yes, you do."  Anakin sent her a short burst of soothing feelings in the Force.  "And I'm not going anywhere." 

Padmé opened her eyes again and smiled lovingly.  "I know."  She reached down and tapped in the access code; Anakin slid his chair beyond the range of the outgoing image.  A few moments later one of Supreme Chancellor Trellem's secretaries appeared in the holographic image.  "Hello, Garraun," she greeted the young Bith.  "I'm calling in for my appointment with the Supreme Chancellor."  

"Yes, Special Advisor Skywalker, of course.  He'll be right with you."  

Padmé took another deep breath and waited.  "Greetings, Gannis.  I hope you are well."

The sixty-year-old, gray-haired man from the Core world of Nubia nodded his head.  "I am, Padmé, thank you.  And you?" 

"Things have been better for my family," she growled.  

Chancellor Trellem blinked but did not apologize.  "I set up this appointment because I seek your counsel about the crisis Argis has provoked in the Mid Rim."  

"I trust I do not have to refresh your memory on my scholarly writings on these topics," Padmé asserted bluntly.  "Most wars in galactic history have been caused by territorial disputes or economic inequality.  Argis seems to be keenly exploiting both of those angles."

"Do you have any sense," Trellem queried, "whether his aggressive military activities are subservient to his wealth redistribution agenda?"

"Any special insight?  Not particularly."  Padmé looked down briefly at her datapad.  "My opinion is that his recent series of military escalations indicates an unwillingness to resolve his differences with the Republic peacefully."

"What is your evidence for this conclusion?"  

"Argis' forces have been engaged in piracy along the Corellian Trade Spine for several years.  His zone of territory has been expanding Inward from Vyhrrag, bringing him closer and closer to the Spine itself.  His most recent acquisition, Xixus, easily could be a staging ground for an operation to blockade shipping entirely."  Padmé did not mention that each such expansion also brought Argis' forces nearer to Naboo.  "Each time the Senate has insisted the piracy cease, Argis has escalated in response.  He has not performed a single act of good faith, despite the many such attempts you have made."  

"And if I assume for the moment that Senator Organa" – declining to refer her as Padmé's daughter – "has been taken prisoner under Argis' authority, he would have escalated the crisis yet another step."  He looked down in consternation.  "A step Senator Bellion reminds me most certainly constitutes an act of war."  

"That is true, Gannis," Padmé concurred.  "But an act of war does not require war in response.  It only authorizes it.  If you truly believe this proposed summit has even a slim chance for a peaceful settlement, you should proceed with it."  

"Thank you for your candor, Padmé," Trellem smiled weakly.  "I can tell from your tone, however, that you believe such a chance does not exist."  

"You are correct about that," she conceded.  "But it is not my decision to make.  You are the Supreme Chancellor, not me."  She heard a very quiet pretend cough from Anakin and quickly redirected her eyes to him without shifting the angle of her face.  He mouthed two words to her.  _For now._  She couldn't keep the wicked smirk from appearing for just a moment along her lips.  

Trellem proceeded obliviously.  They discussed in further detail the economic claims raised by the New Justice movement as well as the nature of the political response of the Republic to Argis' incitements.  After almost an hour Trellem changed the subject.  "Padmé, your judgment and leadership are highly valuable assets to me.  I wonder if you would be willing to broaden your role and share your abilities with the Senate as a whole?"

Padmé had not anticipated this turn of events, and neither Sabé nor Millius had mentioned any such notion.  "What do you have in mind, Chancellor?"

"There are eight Senate seats that have remained vacant for over three years because systems that have joined New Justice have refused to send their representatives.  There is talk among the Rules Committee of introducing a bill that would convert these seats into Senators-at-Large for the duration of the crisis."  Centuries ago several positions in the legislative body always has been set aside for at-large Senators.  Those chosen to serve were elder statesmen or universally respected politicians who could speak for the citizens of the galaxy as a whole, rather than being bound to the interests of a particularly system's constituency.  "If this occurs, would you be willing to serve?  They are likely to be Chancellor's appointments."

Padmé managed to keep the surprise in her emotions off her face and from her voice.  "I'll be honest, Gannis.  I have very much enjoyed my life away from active politics.  I'm not sure I want to be that far on the inside again."

"All I am asking for now is that you consider it," the Supreme Chancellor smiled.  "Much would have to happen before you would have to make any final decision.  Think about it.  Please."

"I will.  I promise you that."  

"Thank you."  The holographic image of Trellem shifted in his chair on Coruscant.  "I appreciate all the time you have taken with me today, Padmé.  I know you have a great deal on your mind.  You and your family are in my thoughts." 

"That's kind of you," she acknowledged diplomatically.  "But our thoughts are with _you_.  This crisis is as grave as anything the Republic has faced in decades.  Events are moving rapidly and could spiral out of control without warning."  She would not tell him about the Sith, not directly.  "Dark forces are at work, Chancellor.  There is more going on that any of us understands, even the Jedi Council.  Be careful." 

Trellem nodded.  "I will."  He paused momentarily.  "Don't worry, Padmé.  I'll stay sharp.  I'm no Palpatine."  He meant it as an entirely innocent jest.  

Padmé's eyes flashed to Anakin's.  _We can be thankful for that_, said their secret gaze. 

When Anakin had slain Darth Sidious over twenty years ago, only a handful of individuals in the entire galaxy ever had learned that Sidious in fact had been Palpatine.  The Jedi successfully had controlled their monopoly over the truth in the hours after the initial assassination and the citizens of the Republic had gone about their daily lives believing that the elderly Palpatine had succumbed to natural causes.  Subsequent review of Sidious' files had revealed a meticulous and flawless separation of all references to Sidious and Palpatine.  Apparently as insurance against an inadvertent discovery of his lair, Palpatine appeared in the files merely as a dupe in Sidious' master plan to seize control of the Republic, establish an Empire, and annihilate the Jedi Order.  Palpatine's official files likewise contained not a single mention of Sidious or even of any information that the man would have known only in his Sith capacity.  Thus all of Sidious' manipulations, from the machinations that led to the Trade Federation attack on Naboo to controlling both sides of the short-lived Separatist insurrection, could be explained as Sith deviousness in which Palpatine had been unfortunately and unknowingly culpable.  This was the version of galactic history that scholars had studied and written for the last two decades, and every single conclusion was fully supported by Palpatine's official files and Sidious' Sith records.  Some academics and commentators found it odd that Professor Skywalker, such an astute and incisive analyst of political history, never had written a single word about these events even though she had participated in many of them.  Her public explanation was that her personal involvement was too emotional and deep and would compromise her objectivity.  Only Anakin knew her true reason: she was unwilling, even indirectly, to lend her voice to a monstrous – if necessary – public deception. 

Padmé shifted her eyes back to Trellem and held him in an intense stare.  "I know that, Gannis.  We certainly don't need another Palpatine.  But in the present crisis we can't afford another _Valorum_ either."  

The Supreme Chancellor's face froze as he comprehended the implication.  "I'll keep that in mind.  Thank you again for your counsel, Padmé.  Until next time."  

"Very well, Your Excellency.  May the Force be with you."

When she terminated the feed, Padmé propped up her elbows on the edge of the small table and let her face fall into her hands.  Anakin rose from his chair and stepped over to stand behind her.  He placed his hands tenderly on her shoulders and began to knead slowly her tense muscles.  "You did well," he soothed.  

"Thanks."  She moaned in satisfaction as he ground out a knot at the base of her neck.  "What do you think I should do about the at-large seat if it opens up?"

He smiled.  She knew what his answer was – probably even the exact words he was about to speak.  It wasn't his opinion she needed to hear; it was his gentle reassurance.  

"I think the Republic needs you."  The rest of his approval he didn't express in words.  

---

Even in her detention cell deep within the Vyhrragian frigate Leia could feel the huge starship settle into a dock.  After a considerable delay the sounds of two pairs of boots approached the door.  As she expected, the two dark figures who had arrived to seize her aboard the _Marigold_ entered her cell.  Once again she could not see the faces concealed beneath the hoods of the huge black cloaks, although she now was certain the taller one was a man and the shorter one was a woman.  

Leia rose to her feet and nodded her head, hoping they would accept her signal that she intended to follow them.  With a wave of his hand the man ushered her out the door and into the hallway.  With him in front and the woman trailing on her heels, Leia walked again through the maze of corridors and turbolifts until they exited through a skyway attached to one side of the frigate.  Soon they had passed through a hangar facility and entered a series of tunnels.  They seemed to be underground, so Leia surmised they had made landfall on some planet controlled by the New Justice movement.  

Almost half an hour of walking later Leia was led into a small windowless room.  The walls were painted a dark gray and a solitary light disk shone on the low ceiling.  In the middle of the room was a single three-legged stool.  

"Have a seat," said the woman.  Her voice sounded young, maybe older than Leia but maybe not.  

Leia nodded, sat down, and held her hands together in her lap.  Her feet barely touched the floor.  While at this point she had eaten a few meals since her capture, she wore the same clothes and had not been able to shower.  She felt disgusting and the stress of the situation had left her emotionally and physically exhausted.  

"I have questions for you, Senator Skywalker," the man said.  His voice was sinister and gravelly.  He sounded somewhat older, although it might simply have been his tone.  His words carried a grim hatred in each syllable.

"My name is Leia Organa," she insisted firmly.  "I would appreciate it if you would…"

The man cut her off abruptly.  "Your father is the Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker, is he not?" 

"Are these all going to be questions to which you already know the answer?" she spat back at him.  

"Then to me you are Skywalker," the man declared.  "Feel free to be as indignant about that as you like." 

"Very well."

"Where is your father now?"

Leia looked up in surprise.  Of course the man's eyes were not visible, but she had no idea why he thought she would know that information.  "You've been holding me prisoner for several standard days."  Then she shook her head.  "And I wouldn't tell you even if I knew."  

"That remains to be seen, Skywalker," the man chuckled darkly.  "But your father, the hero.  Let me continue with him.  He will not let you be held prisoner by us, will he?"  

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."  

"Insolent woman!  Answer the questions," the man shouted in anger.  His right hand flicked outward and an invisible wave of power blasted Leia backward off the stool.  She landed hard on her tailbone before the back of her head smacked violently into the wall.  

Leia felt pain spiking throughout her skull and screaming up her spine.  The severity of the agony was so intense she could not form thoughts in her mind.  It hurt so much she wanted to die simply to make it stop.  Then as suddenly as the pain had appeared she found herself flush against the wall, facing outward, held off her feet by the grip of a black-gloved hand on her throat.  

"Do you understand me now, Skywalker?" the man asked sharply.  "Have I made myself clear?"  

Leia managed to force a single word.  "Yes."  The grip on her throat loosened and her feet dropped to the floor again.  But the hand stayed around the base of her neck and the man's body was only inches from hers.  Yet somehow she still could not see his face.  And the piercing shards of pain stabbing her body had not abated.  

"Your father will not sit by while we hold you, will he?"  

"I don't know."  It was difficult to formulate a coherent idea, much less speak one.  "He will do what he thinks is appropriate."  She tasted blood in her mouth from where she had bitten her tongue when her head hit the wall.  "I have no idea what he will think is appropriate to do about this."

"Do you really expect me to believe that, Skywalker?"  The man's voice was becoming increasingly vicious.  "He won't come after you?"

"I don't know," Leia insisted again.  Her brain was about to explode.  Any second now.  "Maybe."  

The man squeezed her throat tighter and drove his body against hers, forcing the air from her lungs as her ribs collided with the wall.  "You can make this easy or you can make this difficult, Skywalker."  His left hand grabbed the front of her pants.  The message was unmistakable.  "The choice is yours.  I will give you only one more chance to cooperate."  

"I…  will not…"  Leia could only sputter words.  She was on the borderline of unconsciousness as she ran out of air.  

"Enough of this!  Release her!"  

The woman's voice barely was audible over the blazing pain and the muddled state of Leia's mind.  Without a word the man removed his hands from her and stalked across the room to stand at the door.  For at least a split-second as she slid down the wall into a heap on the floor, Leia noted her surprise at who apparently was in charge here.  Through fuzzy eyes she looked toward the woman's voice.  

The woman stretched out her gloved hands, and Leia unconsciously extended her own and was pulled to her feet.  Without really perceiving it Leia found herself sitting on the stool again.  

"Tell me, Skywalker, do you think your father will rescue you himself?"  The woman's voice was calmer, less menacing.  

"I just…"  Leia still struggled to collect her thoughts through the pain.  "I don't know."  

"Would he send your brother?  Or your sister?"  

"Maybe.  I…  I can't…  really say."  Tears were streaming down her face.  

Through the blur the woman's black hand skipped through the air.  "You'll tell me your best guess."  

Now Leia realized why she could not see their faces.  They were hiding behind the Force.  And she knew the woman was using mind compulsion against her.  But with the exhaustion and the pain she wasn't strong enough any more to repel it.  "I'll tell you my best guess," she responded in a monotone.  "He'll come for me."  

"Good.  Very good.  You see, Skywalker, there is no need to fight with me," the woman chuckled.  The dark fingers bounced in front of Leia's face again.  "And how long will he wait?" 

"Not long," Leia heard herself answer.  The conversation continued for several more minutes but her conscious mind was absent.  Then everything went black.   

Hours later Leia awoke facedown in another prison cell.  This time, at least, she was on a cot.  The back of her head still throbbed and her lower back ached terribly.  A quick mental inspection of the rest of her body seemed to indicate that nothing else had happened.  But she had no idea what she might have told them.  Sobs of pain and regret shook her prone form and new rivers of tears dampened the pillow.  "I'm sorry," she croaked aloud even though she was all alone.  "I'm sorry, Daddy.  I'm so sorry."

---

Padmé entered the conference room and stood at the head of the table.  She rested her hands on her hips and took a deep breath.  "There's been a slight change of plans," she sighed reluctantly to the three seated individuals waiting for her.  

"Take your time, Padmé," Jenny said calmly.  

"Senator Millius did his best, but Trellem and Rylla had the votes," Padmé frowned.  "When the cloture motion on the peace summit resolution was made, they won it.  The resolution carried too." 

"That's frustrating," Sarré grumbled.  "It's not going to accomplish anything." 

"I don't think so either," Padmé shook her head.  "But it's out of our hands now.  The summit will be held in two days at Malastare."

"Are we going?"  Sarré wasn't sure what she wanted the answer to be.  

"No.  The Republic will be sending eight delegates.  Rylla and Breena are the lead negotiators.  There will be three spots for Senators from our faction."  She chuckled before she continued.  "It won't surprise you to hear that Millius refuses to have anything at all do with this summit.  He declined to serve on the team."  She looked to Sarré.  "Your mother agreed to go in his place."  

Sarré smiled.  "She's not even a sitting Senator, and they're sending her to the peace summit?  Wow.  They must really be desperate."  

"Maybe," Padmé laughed.  "More likely, it's a sign of how much they all respect her abilities."  Then her face became more somber.  "Speaking of abilities, I asked Bryon to join us for a reason."  Her son looked up at her expectantly.  "Out of deference to the views of the New Justice movement, the Chancellor agreed not to send any Jedi in the security force for the summit."

"That's ridiculous," Bryon exclaimed in consternation.  "We shouldn't let them dictate our procedures.  Security is far tighter with Jedi assistance."

"I know," Padmé nodded.  "But it's not our call.  So in place of the Jedi, Commander General Dodonna is sending his most capable units: yours."  

"We can leave immediately," Bryon told his mother proudly.  "Admiral Mirkalla already has offered us a very fast transport.  We'll be there in half a day.  That will be plenty of time to prepare."  Yet he could not stop himself from sharing an apologetic glance with Sarré.  

"We'll keep everything under control here while you're away," Padmé smiled, hoping to ease the news for him a little.  "Say hello to Sabé for all of us while you're there."  She walked over and rested her hand on his shoulder.  "I'm certain you will provide perfect protection at the summit.  As good as any the Jedi could offer."  Then she leaned down and winked.  "Let's not tell your father I said that, okay?" 

---

Anakin strode quickly across the main hangar of the _Invictus_ toward the sleek Navy transport being prepared for departure near the enormous aperture facing the vast field of stars.  He had an important message to deliver before his son left with his troops for the peace summit at Malastare.  Fortunately it was quite easy to pick him out, towering above all the others in his shining black battle armor.  

"Bryon," he called over the low murmur of boarding soldiers and loading cargo.  In the Force he sensed a short burst of disappointment from him.  There was someone else he was waiting for.  

"Dad, hi," Bryon smiled.  With a quick turn of his head he gave a final set of orders to several privates, then faced his father again.  "To what do I owe this honor?" he kidded with mock deference.  

"I came to wish you well on your mission," Anakin replied with nod, accepting the jest.  

"Thank you," Bryon nodded in return.  "For once I'm actually hoping for a dull, uneventful assignment." 

"I hope so too," Anakin agreed.  "Bryon, I want to tell you something.  You probably already guessed, but I'm going to say it anyway.  Your platoon was here because I requested it."  Their eyes met in a gaze of mutual understanding.  "Had this summit not arisen, with the security arrangements it requires, your troops would have been the lead team on the rescue."  

"I don't know what to say," Bryon said humbly.  "I assumed we were only the backup for…"  His voice trailed off.  

"For Jedi?" Anakin finished for him, crossing his arms over the front of his tan Jedi robes.  "This mission is a delicate one, son.  We need to get Leia out without provoking a war.  Do Luke and Mara seem like the ideal candidates for that to you?"  

"No, not really," Bryon chuckled, appreciating his father's levity in the stressful situation.  "You really would have had us in the lead?" 

"Yes," Anakin confirmed emphatically.  Then he let his voice become a bit more serious.  "I would have sent Jedi with you, though.  There's something you should be aware of, although I ask that you not inform anyone else.  Not even your most trusted advisors.  In fact, Obi-Wan and I have not told Mara and Luke or Danaé yet."  

"Yes, Dad, of course."

"The Jedi Council believes that the Sith have returned.  It is likely they are the ones who have captured Leia, and they may be playing a role in Argis' plans.  So I would have sent Jedi along to deal with any Sith you might have encountered.  But for a rescue, pure and simple, I would send you and your men.  Without hesitation."  

Bryon looked down at the floor.  "Thank you," he said finally.  

Anakin looked closely at his son.  Bryon was the only member of the family Anakin had to raise his eyes to see in the face, and his imposing figure was truly remarkable.  Even more remarkable, though, was the man inside, the man his son had become.  "I appreciate how difficult it must have been for you to tell me about your last mission when we talked earlier," Anakin said quietly.  His son's eyes met his again.  "And if you ever want to talk about what happened, just ask."  

"Sure," Bryon smiled.  "Maybe someday soon."  

Just then Anakin sensed a certain presence approaching the hangar down a nearby hallway.  "Well, I should let you get back to your men," he stated simply.  "May the Force be with you."

"And with you, Dad."  Bryon reached out and pulled his father into a warm embrace.  

When they separated, Anakin turned to head toward a side exit.  He changed his mind and stopped to face his son again.  "Bryon?"

"Yes?"

"I'm very proud of you."

Anakin smiled at seeing Bryon blush deeply and nod.  Then he turned on his heel again and walked briskly toward the open doorway.  At the last moment, he used a burst of Force-assisted Jedi speed to be sure he was out of sight before Sarré entered the hangar through the adjacent portal.  Seeing him only would make her nervous, and his angel had threatened to inflict any number of merciless sanctions upon him if he interfered – even accidentally – with their farewell.  

--- 

It took a search of several different locations on the destroyer before Padmé found Danaé standing at the broad viewport in the lounge of the guest quarters.  "Am I interrupting anything?" she asked gently.  

Danaé turned from staring at the stars to face her mother.  "No, I'm not meditating.  Just thinking."  

"About what?"  Padmé slowly paced over to stand next to her daughter, and they both looked out at the constellations.  

"About how good Sarré is for Bryon.  He's such a different person around her.  Happier.  Brighter.  He lives for her.  And she would marry him tomorrow if he asked."  

"Have you talked to them much lately?" 

"Only the other night in here with Sarré.  He's avoiding me."  

Padmé raised an eyebrow, wondering if her younger daughter suddenly had become paranoid.  "Why would he do that?"  

"Because I'm a Jedi," she laughed.  "For some stupid reason or another he's still trying to hide from you and Dad how much he loves her.  And I think he figures if he avoids me, I won't sense how he feels and tell you.  Sarré's pretending to play along with his little game to make him happy, I guess, but she certainly made no effort to conceal anything from me." 

Padmé laughed loudly and happily.  "Then I guess his plan really didn't work, did it?" 

Danaé joined in the mirth.  "No.  It sure didn't."  

After a while Padmé looked up into her daughter's intense blue eyes, at almost the same angle as when she looked into Anakin's.  "Danaé, how are you doing?" 

"I'm fine, Mom," she insisted firmly in a quiet, calm voice.  

"I didn't get the sense the other day that you told me everything that's troubling you, that's all," Padmé persisted tenderly.  

"Well, maybe not.  I have a lot on my mind.  And some of it is Jedi stuff."  

"I've been married to your father for almost twenty-three years, dear.  There isn't very much Jedi stuff that I don't know."  

Danaé giggled a little.  "You're right.  I'm sorry."  She reached out and took her mother's hand.  "I miss my Master, Mom.  I was with Oga almost every day for over seven years.  And then he just vanished.  I mean, if I knew he was dead I could mourn him and move on.  But not knowing…  It haunts me.  All the time.  It's as if I lost part of myself.  As if, well, I don't know…  Like I lost my arm."  

"I'm sorry, Danaé, I truly am," Padmé soothed.  "I can't comprehend that kind of pain."  She felt a sudden chill, the kind Anakin described when the Force was warning him of something.  A silent voice, cautioning her: _Not yet._  She shivered almost imperceptibly and shook the feeling from her mind.  

"Master Kenobi has been very good about keeping my training up to date," Danaé said with a bit of pride.  "I'm ahead in my academic exercises, and in my best Force skills.  I'm fine in piloting and most of the other techniques.  I need to catch up on lightsaber, though.  And I know whatever role Dad gives me on the mission, it will be the right decision."  

"As long as you're satisfied with the situation, I'm satisfied too," Padmé smiled.  "And you know if you need anything, I will talk to your father for you.  Don't hesitate to ask me.  Really." 

"I know, Mom," Danaé nodded, squeezing her mother's hand.  "I'm fine on my own right now.  And Dad is looking out for me too.  He checks on me often.  But I've always been able to come to you with problems if I ever had to, and I still would." 

"Okay," Padmé said, squeezing back reassuringly.  

They stood in silence, looking out into space.  Somewhere in that vastness was the third member of their trio.  Without her here, there was a great void in their hearts.  

"She'll be back before we know it," Padmé whispered.  

"Not a moment too soon," Danaé agreed softly.  

---

Luke stepped down from the bottom rung of his X-Wing's boarding ladder and headed directly toward his parents, who were waiting at a safe distance in the gargantuan docking bay.  His father, as always, wore tan Jedi robes.  Today his mother had dressed in an understated pale orange-and-yellow dress and wore her hair loose.  They both smiled broadly as he approached.  

He pointedly ignored his father and embraced his mother.  Even though he had been cramped in the cockpit for almost four standard days, and neither he nor his maroon flight suit were particularly pleasant, he knew she wouldn't care.  They hadn't seen each other in months.  "It's good to see you, Mom," he whispered in her ear as he squeezed her tighter and she squeezed back.  She kissed him tenderly on the cheek as he pulled away.  

Then he glared hard into his father's eyes.  "I hope you're happy," he scowled.  

"Luke, we must be patient.  There are…"

"I left her!"  Luke had no intention of listening to any rationalizations.  "I was there.  I was right there.  I could have done something!  Mara and I could have."  From the look on his father's face, he was certain his eyes revealed his anger clearly.  "And because of _you_," he sneered with all the venomous disgust he could evoke, "she's still their prisoner."

Anakin calmly tried to proceed again.  "You don't have the full picture, Luke.  Let me…" 

"Save it for her eulogy, _Master_ Skywalker," Luke interrupted again, his voice filled with derision as he turned away and stalked off toward the exit on the far side of the hangar.  

Mara had taken the courteous route and greeted Han at the _Falcon_'s boarding ramp.  "Follow me," she told him when he descended to meet her.  

As they approached the Jedi and the woman, Han saw Luke storming away.  "What's his problem?" he whispered to Mara quickly.  

"He gets that way sometimes," was all she had time to say before they had arrived in front of the pair.  "Hello, Master," she smiled.  "This is Captain Han Solo of the Republic Navy.  Han, this is Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker."  

"I trust my apprentice has not given you any trouble, Captain," Anakin grinned as the two men shook hands.  

"No, Master Jedi, certainly not," Han replied with as much composure as he could.  He was not intimidated easily.  But right now he felt like an idiot.  When he had met Luke several days ago, he had known the last name sounded familiar but couldn't place why.  The man in front of him, however, he had recognized immediately from Holonet stories and history lessons.  Anakin Skywalker was a member of the Jedi Council and, by reputation, one of the most powerful Jedi in the Order's illustrious history.  No doubt he was reading Han's thoughts right now.  And if Mara was this man's Padawan learner, then she probably was much more powerful than he had realized. 

"I'll ask you again later when she's out of earshot," Anakin joked.  "Captain Solo, this is my wife, Padmé."  

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain," she smiled pleasantly as they shook hands too.  

Mara noticed that Lando and Chewbacca had left the _Falcon_ and were hanging back deferentially.  "Han, can I leave it to you to introduce your colleagues?  Because I _really_ need a shower.  I'll find you later?"  

"Sure," Han nodded, struggling not to forget Master Skywalker's wife's name while simultaneously trying to get a read on what exactly Mara had meant by her second question.  Then he turned around and waved his friends forward.  

---

As she had done the other nights aboard the destroyer _Invictus_, Danaé pulled on her silken pale blue nightgown.  Once again they had to wait before taking action to rescue Leia.  The Republic's spies on Xixus had confirmed that the frigate holding her had landed on the planet.  But until they could identify the specific location where she was being detained, any attempt to retrieve her only would alert the Vyhrragian forces and potentially provoke them to kill her.  When they had a clear picture of the situation on Xixus, a rapid rescue operation would have Leia out before Argis' troops even became aware they were there. 

Danaé was about to lie down on her bed and go to sleep when she sensed a sharp and intensely painful sadness flowing into the Force from the next bedroom.  Danaé took her lightsaber and access card with her, walked into the hallway, and knocked on the door.  "Sarré?  It's me.  May I come in?"  

After a moment the lock clicked off and Danaé waved the door open.  She found Sarré sitting on the single bed in the room with her back against the wall, clutching her knees to her chest and crying uncontrollably.  Danaé sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  "What's wrong?" 

"It's not fair!  It's just not fair," Sarré sobbed.  She wiped her eyes with the too-long sleeve of the too-big white nightgown she had borrowed from Danaé earlier.  "I finally got to see him again and they order him away."  

"I know.  I'm sorry," Danaé soothed as best she could.  

"Three nights," Sarré sniffled.  "How am I supposed to live with three nights?  I hadn't seen him in almost seven months and I get three nights." 

Danaé knew that telling Sarré to look at the positive aspect, that at least she had been able to see Bryon in person, would accomplish nothing.  "It's okay," she whispered.  "He'll be back soon."  

Sarré slumped against Danaé's shoulder and began to cry harder again.  "He'd better be," she gasped through her tears.  "I'm so scared for Leia.  I really need him right now." 

"I know you do," Danaé said quietly, pulling Sarré into a firmer hug.  "I realize it's not the same at all, but I'll stay with you as long as you need tonight, okay?"  Sarré nodded weakly into her shoulder.  Danaé rocked her gently and sent her waves of calming thoughts in the Force until finally she fell asleep.  After she tucked Sarré into the bed, Danaé returned to her room.  With her Jedi training to rely on, she was sleeping soundly within a few seconds.

---

Han finished the last swig of caf and set down his mug on the small circular table in the lounge of the guest quarters on the _Invictus_.  "So I guess we're lucky Luke didn't bring a whole squadron of starfighters on his tail after he flashed that frigate," he chuckled.  

"You can say that again," Mara grinned.  "There's never a dull moment when he's around."  

He smirked.  "Not that I'm one to talk.  I've just never encountered that kind of… well… recklessness from a Jedi before."  He stretched his arms up over his head, then adjusted the shirt of his black fatigues back into proper position. 

"Luke's not an ordinary Jedi," she said quietly, peering down into her own empty mug.  One hand absentmindedly tugged at her Padawan braid; the other plucked at a loose thread from her tan Jedi robes. 

Not knowing how to interpret her statement, Han dipped his head lower and a bit closer to hers to try to get her to look at him again.  "Something tells me Master Skywalker says the same thing about you."

"You're very perceptive, Captain Solo," she conceded smoothly as she met his gaze.  "In some ways, Luke and I are very much alike.  We're both prone to act on our own instincts, even if it's against our orders.  And we both have a craving for adventure and excitement.  Not exactly the standard Jedi virtues."

"I suppose not," he agreed.  He wasn't sure whether he should ask, but he did anyway.  "You and Luke, you're both very powerful apprentices, aren't you?"

Mara nodded reluctantly.  After a moment, she steered the conversation in another direction.  "This rescue operation on Xixus, I doubt we can send only Jedi.  You should stick around.  We could use you."

Han's eyebrows lifted and his jaw dropped.  Every single conversation with these Jedi surprised him.  "Well, technically we're on leave from our usual posts, so we don't have to head out to report to them.  I'll talk to the admiral in the morning.  If he doesn't mind, maybe we'll stay and see what happens."

Mara could sense in the Force his genuine shock at her proposal.  "I watched you fly, Han.  If you handle a blaster half as well, you'll be a big help.  And I think you're spoiling for a fight too."  

"I'll be honest with you, Mara," he said as he shook his head in bemused agreement.  "I find it hard to believe you're really a Jedi.  You don't think like one.  At least not one I've ever met."  

"There's something Master Kenobi always says," she explained, "a lesson he learned from his Master decades ago.  Never be too confident in your own abilities as a Jedi, and always be vigilant for allies who can assist you."

He couldn't stifle his laugh.  "Look, Mistress Jedi, I've worked with enough of your buddies over the years that I have to accept the existence of the Force and the powers it gives you.  But if you're telling me there's some omnipotent pull of destiny out there in the galaxy that brought me here, you're delusional.  It's coincidence or luck, nothing more."  

Mara smiled.  "In my experience there's no such thing as luck."  She looked at the chrono on the wall and realized how late it was.  "For now, though, can we agree to disagree?"  She rose from the table and placed her mug into the cleaner unit. 

As he stood Han threw up his hands, palms out in mock surrender.  "I'm not going to argue with a Jedi, sister.  I'll take my share of risks now and then, but I'm not crazy."  He added his mug to the unit too and turned toward the door.  

She caught herself considering inviting him back to her room – and instantly shook the impulsive and irresponsible thought away.  "You can find your way back to your quarters, I take it?" 

"With my eyes closed," he replied with a wink.  "The _Orn Free Taa_ is the same ship as this one."  

"Well, then good night, Captain Solo."

"Good night, Jedi Jade."  He spun on his heel and strode out, leaving her staring at the empty doorway for several minutes, firm in her resolve that she had made the right decision. 

---

Jenny was finishing tying back her long brown hair in a braid when the knock came at her door.  She waved off the lock and was not at all surprised to see Padmé, dressed in her red nightgown and robe, step through after it slid open.  

"I've given up trying to reason with him," her friend said in exasperation.  "And needless to say he wants nothing to do with his father.  He listens to you.  Would you mind?" 

"Of course not," Jenny agreed pleasantly; this was hardly the first time they'd had this kind of conversation.  "I'll go right now." 

"Thank you," Padmé sighed.  "He hasn't been this angry in a long time.  I'm worried about him."  

"I'll do what I can, Padmé, I promise," Jenny replied.  She found her slippers and pulled on a thick yellow robe over her orange nightgown.  She gave Padmé a long and gentle hug, then padded down the hallway to a closed door.  She knocked and received no response.  It took only three tries to trigger the keypad to open the lock.  He really needed learn to be less predictable with his codes.  

"Luke?  Luke, it's me," she called out as the door slid open.  When he didn't holler in indignation, she marched inside.  

He was standing with his back to her in the open doorway to his refresher, leaning on his arms outstretched over his head, his knuckles white from squeezing the doorframe.  He wore a sleeveless white shirt and a matching pair of sleepshorts.  "What do you want?" he growled.  "Are you a messenger or a spy?"

"Neither," she answered quietly.  "Your mother asked me to talk to you, but I have no agenda."  She paused before she continued.  "I'll leave if you want me to."

"No, it's okay," he sighed, pushing off from the wall and turning to face her.  His hair was a disaster and his blues eyes were bloodshot from crying.  "Look, I know I'm not handling this very well.  And being around Dad doesn't make it any easier." 

"Because you don't know how he does it.  How he stays so calm and controlled all the time."  Jenny remembered Anakin before he had achieved his current state of emotional peace.  Luke always had reminded her of that Anakin: he was too quick to anger, too impatient and rash, and too passionate in his feelings.  Before she could catch it her mind noted another resemblance to the youthful Anakin – the physical one.  Luke's attire inadvertently highlighted his thin figure and powerful muscles.  To this day Jenny permitted herself a small bit of jealously toward Padmé, and she had suffered through several tortuous periods of impossible crushes on Anakin when she was much younger.  If it wasn't so weird, so wrong, she knew she easily could develop the same feelings for this young Skywalker too.  

"That's it," Luke conceded as he sat down on the edge of the bed, plunked his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.  "I know I did the right thing.  I just wish it didn't hurt so much." 

Jenny walked over and stood in front of him.  "What were you going to do?  Fly your ship in there, yet somehow hide so they don't find you?  Concoct some scheme to trick your way into the detention bloc, get Leia from her cell, then sneak or fight your way back to your ship?  Which they wouldn't have bothered to disable in the meantime?"

"It does sound pretty ridiculous when you put it _that_ way."  A smile crossed Luke's face.  "You're right," he laughed.  "Not to mention that an X-Wing only seats one person."  He shook his head and wiped his eyes.  "I didn't really have a plan.  I just wanted to do something to help her." 

"I know you did," she replied soothingly.  "And Leia would know that's how you feel." 

"Dad has information he hasn't told me yet, doesn't he?  And he has a plan?" 

She nodded her head, then rested her left hand on his shoulder and brushed the hair off his forehead with her right.  "Trust in your father, Luke, and in the Force.  And I'll be here for you, if you need me."  When he was an infant, sometimes Jenny had been the only one for whom he would cease his shrieking.  When he was a little boy, for some reason he always had obeyed her even in his most rebellious stages with his parents or the Jedi.  Since then he still always seemed to find calm and serenity in her presence.  

"You always have been," Luke smiled sadly.  He reached up, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her into a hug.  She hugged his upper back as his head rested against her abdomen.  

Then, simultaneously, they pulled away.  The embrace had lingered longer than either of them had intended, and now they felt uncomfortable.  

"Good night, Luke," she said calmly, stepping away toward the door.  

"Good night, Jenny," he replied.  Just before she left the room, he looked up again.  "Thank you."  

Neither of them was able to fall asleep for a very long time. 

---

After returning from talking to Jenny, Padmé paused in the sitting room of her temporary residence.  She and Anakin had the only suite in the guest quarters on the _Invictus_; the others were simple, one-room bedchambers.  She stood over the small desk, tapping on her datapad to retrieve the latest political news on the Holonet.  

She looked up when she heard the soft hums and whirs of mechanical motors.  If the droids were trying to approach quietly from the separated kitchenette area, they were doing a poor job of it.  They should have figured out by now that it was impossible for them to sneak up on anyone. 

Threepio rounded the corner.  "Oh, Mistress Padmé," he said in surprise.  "I didn't hear you arrive."  

From behind the wall Artoo blooped a squawk that clearly indicated his consternation at how the protocol droid could have missed that fact. 

Padmé suppressed her giggle.  "Well, here I am."  She glanced down briefly and scanned the headlines.  Nothing she didn't already know.  "Is Jaytoo here too?" 

"No, he isn't," Threepio complained.  "He found several military astromechs who share his obsession with holochess.  They've been playing for hours down in the hangar."  Threepio shook his head and gestured with his hands in frustration.  "I don't think we'll ever see him again!"  

Padmé smiled and shut off the datapad.  "Let him have his fun, Threepio," she laughed.  "It's harmless."  

"Yes, Mistress Padmé, that's true," Threepio replied, "but I simply think that…"  

Padmé tuned out his yammering when Artoo rolled around the corner with a steaming mug of cocoa held out in his small repair claw.  She bent down on one knee and retrieved the drink.  "Thank you, Artoo," she smiled as she rubbed the top of his dome with her left hand.  "You're very sweet."  In return she received an embarrassed whistle from the droid.

She stood again and headed toward the bedroom.  "Good night."  

After the door closed behind her, Threepio turned to Artoo with his hands splayed to the sides in exasperation.  "That was awfully devious of you, you little bucket of bolts!  You're always trying to get in Mistress Padmé's good graces at my expense.  Why, I ought to…"  

Artoo rolled back into the kitchenette, doing his best to ignore the golden humanoid droid chasing after him.  

Inside the bedroom Padmé found Anakin sitting on the end of the bed in a white plush robe; his hair still looked damp from his shower.  She took a few long sips of the cocoa before she set the mug on the nightstand and paced over to stand in front of him.  

Only then did she realize he had been staring blankly at the wall.  The vacant look in his eyes was ghostly, a hollow gaze she had not seen in many years.  Even when she stepped into his line of sight his expression did not change. 

Padmé's heart sank in despair and her stomach lurched in panic.  "Tell me it's not…"  She couldn't bring herself to say what she feared.  

Anakin blinked once but otherwise his face remained stony.  "No, angel.  Not that."  

After a long pause she reached out and began to run her fingers through his short gray hair.  "What is it, Ani?  I have to know."  

Finally his eyes shifted and met hers.  "Leia's going to be okay."

The ambiguous statement hardly made her feel any better.  "What does that mean?"  

"I'm not sure, exactly.  Someone strong in the dark side is trying very hard to block me in the Force now.  I can't get a clear read anymore."  He took a calming breath and continued.  "She's very upset.  I think they interrogated her.  And she seems to be in some pain, but I don't think very much."  

Padmé pulled his head to her chest as she started to cry.  "We have to…  We can't…"  His hands slid under her robe and rubbed her back through her nightgown.  "You have to go for her," she declared after she collected herself.  

"I will.  Soon.  I promise," Anakin reassured her.  "There's something else."  He pulled his head back and looked up into her eyes.  "A great disturbance in the Force.  Not directly related to Leia.  Different.  Ominous."

"Obi-Wan will be here soon.  I'm sure he can help you analyze it."  

"I hope so."  He leaned against her again, and they held each other firmly for several minutes.  

"Ani?"  

"Yes, angel?"  

"Take my mind off this."


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Bryon Skywalker interlinked his black-gloved fingers and cracked his knuckles loudly.  He stood on a small balcony overlooking the Great Hall of an ancient palace on Malastare.  Beneath him two long mahogany tables created parallel dashes against the yellow-and-green speckled marble floors, and seven equally long rows of straight-backed oaken chairs were set up behind each table for aides and translators.  Along the edges of the room huge granite columns extended to the high ceiling covered with brilliantly colored murals of planetary heroes long dead.  It was a sight to behold, one that would play marvelously to the galaxy-wide audiences on the Holonet.  

The Special Forces lieutenant could not see the beauty of the room.  He saw only a deathtrap. 

His eyes scanned the spacious room again.  There were fifteen other balconies like this one spread around the four walls.  Too much space was hidden by the ten-foot wide columns.  Near the ceiling at each corner were four additional balconies.  Underneath the Great Hall was a series of tunnels that were far too easy to access.  And the wide and tall windows, which revealed a spectacular vista of grassy meadows and meandering rivers, would be no match for a well-aimed blaster bolt or explosive rocket.  It was difficult to imagine a less secure venue for a summit between parties on the brink of war.  

Given all of these risks and contingencies, the decision about how best to protect the Republic delegation was an easy one.  Bryon reached down and pulled his black helmet from its resting place at the end of his blaster rifle, which leaned against the low stone railing.  Another swift motion pulled the rifle from the floor by its strap and slung it over his shoulder.  He spun on his heel and headed downstairs to address his troops.  

An hour later Bryon stood in the far less ornate ballroom of a nearby hotel explaining the security arrangements for the summit to the eight Senators, their staffs, and their own security personnel.  Senator Rylla, the Twi'lek, was fully in agreement with everything Bryon proposed; it would make his task much easier to have the delegation's chairman on his side.  Sabé also deferred happily to his judgment, although he was struggling mightily to remember to call her Senator Bellion.  Five other Senators grumbled under their breath and griped quietly to their aides but did not question him.  

"The only way we can assure your safety," Bryon explained, "is for the Special Forces to be the only armed members of the Republic team in the summit hall.  There are more than enough of us to provide complete protection.  And should any hostilities arise, we will be in the simple position of being able to eliminate all armed persons in the room.  Our task would be much more difficult if it were necessary to distinguish between enemy and friendly agents."  He let his gaze travel around the group to the various Senators.  "I understand you may be reluctant to go without your usual guards.  But I must insist that you do so."

Senator Breena, the Rodian, was obstructing him at every step.  "I do not have to listen to you, boy," the green-skinned, bug-eyed female alien proclaimed loudly in heavily accented Basic.  

Before any of the Senators could intervene on his behalf, Bryon stared down Breena.  He was mildly surprised that his black battle armor and considerably greater size did not appear to intimidate her even a little.  "To the contrary, Senator."

"How dare you interrupt me, you…"  

"_Excuse_ me!  I'm in charge of security here, my Lady."  His hands dropped to the handles of the large blaster pistols on his hips.  "I have complete authority by order of Commander General Dodonna and by directive of Supreme Chancellor Trellem.  If you care to read the memorandum again, you will see that if you refuse to comply with my instructions I have power to preclude you from attending.  I do not imagine you would care to risk such embarrassment?"  

Breena blinked rapidly and balled her hands into fists.  Behind her the four Rodian soldiers forming her usual protective contingent advanced to stand directly behind their Senator.  Breena took a deep breath and spoke in a cold, dark voice.  "I most certainly will be attending.  And I will be attending with my own security detail."  

"No, I'm afraid you will not, Senator."  With a quick glimpse to the side, he could see that Rylla and Sabé were nodding in agreement with him.  "You attend on my conditions or not at all."  

Breena's self-control failed.  "I have had enough of this!"  With a wave of her hand, her four guards reached for their weapons.  

In a flash it was over.  Bryon's hands flew up from his holsters with blaster pistols firing.  Two stun bolts, pale blue circles of shimmering light, brushed to either side of Breena's head and slammed directly into the inner guards.  An instant later two more stun bolts pounded squarely into the chests of the outer guards.  Bryon let his hands drift gently down toward his waist as the four Rodian bodies plopped to the ground in states of deep unconsciousness, never having been close to taking action against him.  

And not only that.  The fourteen of his Special Forces soldiers in the room with him instantaneously had snapped their heavy blaster rifles to their shoulders and had them aimed directly at the crowd of Senators and staff.  

After the briefest pause that it took those actions to sink in, a collective gasp escaped from the Republic delegation.  Surrounded by the black-armored soldiers and their towering leader, the armed individuals in the group unnecessarily raised their empty hands in gestures of submission.  Anyone who previously had harbored any doubts that these men could provide all the protection the delegation needed no longer did so.  

Bryon's brown eyes, ordinarily soft and warm like his mother's, burned with an intense, angry fire.  Pistols still in his hands, he took two steps forward and stared into the depths of the Rodian Senator's skull.  "I trust I have made my point?"  

It had become so quiet that his deep, thick voice dominated the room like the words of a mythological deity thundering down from the heavens.  

Senator Breena could not hold the stare and looked aimlessly at the floor in humiliation.  "Yes, Lieutenant," she mumbled almost incoherently.  

Bryon holstered the pair of pistols and stepped back to where he had stood originally.  The four Rodian guards would wake up on the own accord within a few more minutes, and he was content to leave them in their heap until then.  He took one deep breath and picked up without missing a beat from where he had been interrupted.  

"As I was saying, the Special Forces will be the only armed members of the Republic team in the summit hall."

---

From a distance the barren third moon of the planet Ralltiir, near to Coruscant in the galactic Core, appeared to be utterly devoid of anything other than gray rock formations and asteroid impact craters.  Only upon close approach for landing did the orb's sole artificial addition become visible.  In the shallow bottom of a cleft in the stone almost a mile wide was a facility of several dozen buildings surrounded by a high wall.  One of the Republic's most secure prisons, it held dangerous gangsters, vanquished warlords, and convicted traitors.  In recent months it also had acquired several hundred prisoners of war captured from failed piracy operations by Argis' New Justice movement.  

Officially named the Ralltiir Confinement Center, everyone called it The Rock.  

Major Histon Tirix checked the monitors again as the weekly transport slowly descended toward the landing pad on the west edge of the facility.  The middle-aged man had supervised this arrival the last seventy-seven times without incident.  Today he expected four slave traders who recently had been convicted at Rodia as well as several dozen additional Vyhrragian captives.  

He turned away from the screens and looked out the transparisteel viewport to watch the landing.  The transport cut its engines and floated gently downward on its repulsors.  A tubular starship several dozen yards long and ten yards wide and high, it came to rest on its landing gear and lowered two boarding ramps from the middle of the visible side.  Two bureaucrats from the prison moved forward to process the prisoners while twenty Army regulars stood in several groups to oversee the transfer.  

Major Tirix felt his heart stop and his stomach lurch at the sight before him.  With unbelievable speed Vyhrragian brownshirts poured down the ramps with blaster rifles firing.  The two functionaries went down instantly, and probably half of the soldiers were slaughtered before they could react.  Unprepared for this kind of attack, the Republic regulars carried only light blaster rifles.  By contrast, the brownshirts were protected by their tan body armor and unleashed torrents of blaster bolts from their heavy repeating rifles.  The remaining regulars had been annihilated within only a few more seconds.  

Tirix slammed his hands down on all of the emergency buttons.  Klaxons blared and red lights flashed in the stone plaza below and throughout most of the interior of the facility.  Tirix typed in the code to broadcast the Under Siege warning to all his subordinates.  Looking out the window again, he saw almost fifty brownshirts dividing into seven groups and heading toward different buildings of The Rock.  He could not hesitate any longer.  His fingers found the pad again and he sent the most desperate possible mayday messages to nearby Ralltiir and to his superiors on Coruscant.  

There was nothing more Tirix could do from his command post.  He checked to be sure his pistol was set to kill and grabbed a blaster rifle from the rack at the door.  He burst out the open doorway and ran down the stairs.  There had not been an escape from The Rock in over three centuries, and he was not about to let one occur on his watch.  

---

Deep in the bowels of The Rock, hundreds of feet beneath the surface, were the secure cells reserved for the most dangerous or violent prisoners.  Due to the sensitivity of this portion of the facility, the usual alarms and warning lights were absent.  Instead, those who served in this wing were highly trusted and responsible for monitoring their silent comlinks.  

In the middle of a narrow hallway about two hundred feet long the four guards assigned to this area had gathered beneath a dim lighting disk.  Keeping their voices hushed, they wondered what to make of the messages they had received.  

"Do you think it's a drill?" the youngest one asked hesitantly. 

"Probably," grumbled the oldest one as he crossed his arms over the plain gray shirt of the uniform.  

"I've never seen a drill with all the top codes at once, though," suggested the third guard.  

"And usually in a drill they cancel it for us by now," said the fourth reluctantly.  

"You guys are getting paranoid working down here," laughed the oldest, who had served in this assignment for over ten years.  "I think I'm going to tell Major Tirix you need a transfer."  

"I still think something unusual is going on," the youngest one insisted.  "This isn't right."  While the others pondered the man's statement, the deep shadows of the hallway shifted and moved behind them.  Engrossed in their thoughts, none of them noticed.  

Suddenly a distinctive snap-hiss broke the heavy silence.  The four guards turned in time to see two brilliant red lightsaber blades attached to huge black blurs charge toward them.  Before hands could reach holstered blasters, two simple whirling strikes had slain them where they stood.  

Blades still ignited, the two dark figures turned to face each other.  They wore black tunics and pants, black boots and gloves, and billowing black cloaks.  Even the rapid movements of their assault had not drawn the hoods away from covering their faces.  

"We're alone," said a grim male voice from the slightly taller figure.  

After a short pause, a female voice agreed.  "Yes."  

"Which cell is his?" 

"This way," the female motioned with her blade.  After a few long strides down the hallway she stopped in front of a windowless metal cell door.  She extended her shimmering red weapon toward the right-hand edge of the door and pierced the interchange between the metal and stone.  Sparks and tiny explosions lit the hallway for a few seconds.  Stepping away, the female raised her left hand in the air and drew it back toward her head.  

Slowly the cell door creaked open.  Leaving their lightsabers ignited, the two dark figures walked confidently inside.  

In the small, dimly lit room they found an old man sitting upright on his cot.  He was very thin and very pale; he had wisps of unkempt short white hair on his head and sunken, pale blue eyes the color of arctic ice.  His prominent face and proud posture suggested that in his younger years he must have been tall and strong and powerful.  He tugged at the front of his plain white prison grab and then reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes.  

With the two menacing figures standing before him, red blades humming in the air, the old man finally spoke.  "To what do I owe this honor?"  Like his appearance, his raspy and quiet voice recalled lost glories of another lifetime.  

"We bid you to come with us," the male voice said simply in a tone laden with respect and admiration. 

"I do not know you," the old man replied assertively, "and I wonder why you think I would wish to do so." 

"You may not know us," the female voice conceded, "but no doubt you know who we are, do you not?" 

"Yes, I suppose I do," the prisoner said while he stood up and stepped toward them.  "And you must know that my prior association with your…  ancient religion did not work out to my advantage." 

"A fair point," the male voice admitted.  "So let me present two options.  One, you can choose to remain here and we will leave you be and not trouble you again.  I give you my word on the sacred memory of your dead friend.  Two, you can choose to come with us and assist us in accomplishing what our predecessors could not.  What do you wish?"  

The old man took his gaze away from the two black-cloaked figures and stared up into the shadowy corner of the ceiling of his cell.  He took a deep breath and sighed.  "I am old," he stated calmly.  "I do not want to spend the last days of my life in this forsaken place."  He let a quiet chuckle rumble from his emaciated chest.  "I have nothing left to lose.  So I will go with you, my friends."  

---

Within hours the highest levels of the Ministry of Justice on Coruscant received the initial consequences assessment report from the Ralltiir Confinement Center.  Fifty-five Vyhrragian brownshirts had mounted a surprise attack on The Rock.  Some had struck at the command center of the building while most had directed their efforts toward freeing the Vyhrragian prisoners of war.  A valiant defensive effort by the Republic forces at the prison had been successful.  By the time reinforcements from Ralltiir had arrived, all the brownshirst had been killed and their mission had been a failure.  The losses by the Republic were severe, however.  Over eighty guards and Army regulars had been killed, including The Rock's commanding officer, Major Tirix.  

Two hours later a short addendum arrived.  A complete assessment of the facility had been made and one small set of uncertain facts revealed.  Far away from the main strike, on detention bloc 1138 in the depths of the prison, the security cameras had been knocked out of commission by an unknown cause ten minutes prior to the beginning of the Vyhrragian assault.  Two significant explosions had occurred on that bloc during the attack, perhaps from thermal detonators.  One had caused considerable damage to a portion of hallway.  The four guards assigned to the wing remained missing and their bodies had not yet been recovered.  The other had destroyed utterly a single cell and doorway in the bloc.  

Records on The Rock showed, and physical inspection of the remaining cells confirmed, that the relevant prisoner was a long-term resident of The Rock.  Over twenty years ago he had been convicted of several hundred counts of treason as an accomplice to the many crimes of Darth Sidious; he was serving a multitude of life sentences because the Senate had abolished capital punishment a century earlier.  Like the guards, his body had not been located.  

The Minister of Justice, a forty-one-year-old political crony of the Chancellor's, shook his head.  On his datapad he keyed in the code authorizing the reporting official's request to proceed with an inquest into how the Vyhrragian attack had been accomplished.  One aspect of the matter would be to investigate the mysterious explosions deep inside the prison, but the overall surprise attack was far more significant.  In the meantime the prisoner would be listed as "Missing: Presumed Dead."  The name did not mean anything to the Minister, so he keyed in the code approving that request as well.  

Were the former prisoner aware of the decision, he would be pleased.  The Republic's incompetence always had amused Wilhuff Tarkin.  

---

In the same empty side docking bay that had hosted a grueling father-daughter sparring match the day before, five members of the Jedi Order wearing the standard-issue tan robes sat cross-legged in a small circle in the precise center of the wide room.  The two Masters and three Padawan learners were deep in meditation, their minds interconnected and calm as they let the Force flow around, among, within, and through themselves.  They all absorbed the same Force, but it touched their unique spirits in diverse ways.  

At some imperceptible signal from the eldest participant, the five slowly returned their minds to the present time and place.  Simultaneously their eyes opened.  

The youngest one spoke first, as was tradition.  "There is a great disturbance in the Force," Danaé said in a solemn, hushed tone.  "One I have not felt since…   One I have not felt before."  She was attuned to the living Force and could sense in its currents the earnest ripples of fear and anguish from the millions of citizens of the dozens of star systems now subject to Argis' despotic rule.  And there was more: a soft taste of death, of horrors beyond imagination, flickering around the edges of her profound empathy. 

"The dark side is gaining strength," Luke continued after an approving nod from his sister.  "It clouds my vision, my perceptions of the Force.  And it responds to my anger."  He quickly met eyes with his Master, who made a simple gesture with his right hand to acknowledge his apprentice's honesty.  Like his father Luke could not describe the Force in the usual way.  Unlike other Jedi the Force simply reached directly into him with its visions and sensations, its strength and guidance, its will.  He did not perceive it; it perceived him.  For most Jedi all but the most trivial efforts with the Force required an act of concentration corresponding in magnitude to the task at hand.  For Luke, as with Anakin, the Force flowed in symbiosis with him, often responding to his will – or perhaps its will – before the thoughts even formed.  

Mara took a deep breath.  "There is much suffering to come.  The equilibrium I always have felt in the Force is gone.  There is a disruption.  An imbalance."  She took another very slow and careful breath.  "Terrible things will happen before the Force is calm again."  For someone comparatively so young and untrained as a Jedi, her attunement to the unifying Force, in particular her perception of the constant motion of the future, was remarkable.  That was part of what made her an outstanding duelist with a lightsaber.  Sometimes, however, her thoughts dwelled so much on foresight and strategy that her Master had to remind her not to lose track of the intricacies of the present.  That was not the lesson for today.  

"You are each correct, in your own way," Anakin smiled.  "I sense all of these things."  And more.  But he did not need to speak that aloud; the apprentices knew it without being told.  "The threat to the galaxy is not merely a violent rebellion in a small sector of the Mid Rim.  If it were, it would be simple enough to contain.  It is worse than that.  Much worse."  

"We did not tell you until now to avoid compromising your focus on your mission," Obi-Wan said to Mara and Luke.  "You will be the first Jedi not members of the Council to hear what I am about to say," he stated without fanfare, training his gaze on Danaé.  At that, the faces of the three Padawans reacted in unabashed shock and concern.  "The disturbance in the Force results from the activities of the Sith." 

Danaé spontaneously drew her hand up to her lips and gasped.  Luke's jaw hung open.  Mara gulped audibly as she swallowed a lump in her throat.  

"The Sith?" Luke finally asked, still struggling to comprehend the announcement.  

"There is little doubt of it," Obi-Wan answered regretfully.  "It is the only explanation consistent with the disturbances in the Force and with other events in the galaxy."  

Danaé now understood why her father had tested her lightsaber technique so vigorously.  "Why could we not sense them sooner?"  

"I wish I understood why the Force operates in this way," Anakin conceded.  "But it always has been so.  When the Sith are silent and inactive, merely training and growing in strength, we cannot perceive them.  Only when they begin to act, when they set their evil schemes in motion, do their impacts on others and on the future become apparent within the Force." 

Mara was the first to regain her composure and confidence.  "We will go to Xixus and rescue Leia.  If the Sith have taken her, then we will meet them and defeat them."  She sat up straighter and clenched her fists.  "Let them come."  

Not to be outdone, Luke leaned forward, interlaced his fingers, and chuckled.  "That's very bold of you, Mara.  I'm sure they're afraid of you already."  Seeing a stern stare from Obi-Wan, however, Luke leaned back again and took a deep breath.  

Danaé had a more practical issue on her mind.  "Is there anything we need to know besides the fact the Sith are threatening us again?  Do we need any additional training to confront them?" 

Obi-Wan smiled.  "No, young Padawan.  Everything you need, you already have."  

With graceful ease Anakin sprang to his feet and motioned the others to join him.  "While we wait for the final word, I recommend a last bit of lightsaber sparring.  It has been some time since any Jedi last faced a true enemy who fought our way.  Let us be as prepared as possible."  They all unclipped their lightsaber handles from their belts and ignited the shimmering, whirring weapons.  "Danaé, help me test Master Kenobi," Anakin requested.  On the mission to come, Obi-Wan would be on his own for his task.  "You two," he chuckled, waving his left hand at Luke and Mara, "work out some of that antagonism, will you?"  

With a laugh Luke swung his turquoise blade in two hands straight for Mara's head.  She snapped her violet blade up to block, then rolled her wrists and almost ripped the laser sword from his grip before she launched into a blistering series of powerful arcs.  After Luke parried away the final strike, he lunged into a high triple back flip that brought him several yards away and gave him time to set his defense again.  

Across the room Anakin and Danaé attacked Obi-Wan aggressively from opposite sides.  Even one-on-one, Obi-Wan had difficulty defending against Anakin; with Danaé on the offensive it was the most vigorously he had fought in many years.  Obi-Wan's turquoise blade flashed from right to left, over his head and around behind his shoulders, back and forth in brilliant swaths of color.  Every swing of Anakin's blue laser sword and Danaé's emerald one was turned away before it came close to hitting home.  Were it not for the look of utter calm on the white-bearded Jedi Master's face, his defense would have appeared frantic.  

---

Sarré found Padmé, Jenny, and Threepio standing at the wide transparisteel viewport in the lounge of the guest quarters on the _Invictus_.  She wore a dark blue flight suit and her blaster pistol strapped to her hip.  At any moment the Republic's spies on Xixus would be reporting in with the final pieces of information needed to launch the rescue operation to retrieve Leia.  When that happened Sarré would be providing cover in an X-Wing.  "I'm all ready," she announced as calmly as she could.  

"You'll fly well out there, Sarré, I know you will," Padmé smiled gently.  

"You're a better pilot than half the naval ensigns on this ship," Jenny teased to lighten the mood.  While that might not have been entirely true, the Naboo handmaiden training was extensive and thorough.  Although she never formally had held that title, Jenny's certificates were up to date.  

Padmé's were too.  "Thank you for coming by," she said.  "I appreciate it.  May the Force be with you." 

Sarré tipped her head in thanks and left the room.  She was anxious and fretful.  So she was better off simply waiting in the hangar, where Artoo and Jaytoo already were preparing for the mission.  

"I'm annoyed with Anakin," Padmé grumbled after she was gone.  "He's left us out of this entirely." 

"Mistress Padmé," Threepio interjected, "I must admit I think that is a wise decision.  This mission sounds very dangerous indeed."  

"Yes, Threepio, I'm sure it is," Padmé laughed at the protocol droid's astonishing capacity for stating the obvious.  

"What do you want to do, Padmé?  I'm sure they'll be fine without us," Jenny said soothingly as she reached out to take Padme's hand.  

"That's not the point!"  Padmé's frustration had not abated.  "It's not his decision to make alone."  She shook her head, pulled her hand away, and ran her fingers through her hair several times.  Then a sparkle came to her eyes and a mischievous grin crossed her face.  Like a young child in a toy store, she grabbed Jenny's hand and dragged her toward the door.  "Come with me."  

"Wait, Mistress Padmé, wait for me!" Threepio exclaimed as the two women disappeared out the exit.  "What do you wish for me to do?"  When no reply was forthcoming Threepio started to follow, then stopped.  "Oh dear."

---

Another series of Mara's vicious two-handed swings drove Luke into a rapid back-stepping retreat.  His defense was holding, but he could sense no opportunities to change the momentum of their duel.  As the seconds passed by and his situation did not improve, Luke finally made the only move he could think of.  He blocked with greater strength than before, then drew on the Force to launch himself straight up into the air, corkscrewing his body around an invisible axis in his hips to land behind her.  In her intense combat focus, however, the maneuver had no effect on Mara.  She spun to meet him and attacked again, her loose red-gold hair and thin Padawan braid flailing out in all directions.  

"Not bad, not bad," she laughed sarcastically.  "For a Skywalker."  

Luke grimaced as one of her swings came perilously close to his left ear.  "What's that supposed to mean?  You still have never beaten my father."  He tumbled smoothly along the floor, springing up a few yards away and swinging the tip of his blade twice through a circle to regain his concentration.  

"He's an aberration," she declared.  "A fluke.  A quirk of fate."

"I hardly think so."  Part of the problem was that Mara's greatest prowess was in lightsaber fighting, while Luke spent considerable effort honing his skills as a pilot.  While this gave him more balance in his abilities, it also meant she had the advantage when only this one was involved.  

"Fine.  Tell me, Luke, whose name is on the championship trophy this year?"  For centuries the Lightsaber Competition had been an annual tradition in the Jedi Temple.  All but the least skilled Padawans competed in the eleven rounds of single-elimination duels until a single winner emerged.  Excluding those who were absent due to missions, failed to qualify in preliminary heats, or simply chose not to enter, Knights and Masters competed in a separate eleven-round bracket to crown their own supreme fencer.  

"Jade," he grudgingly admitted.  "And the three years before that," he quickly grumbled, forestalling her from making him admit them separately.  

"And how many times has a Skywalker won?"  Mara shifted from the powerful, aggressive arcs of her usual offensively oriented technique to the swift, precise swings of the very difficult expert style her Master slowly was teaching her.  

"Three."  Luke's father had prevailed when he was fourteen, fifteen, and twenty; in the other years, his impatience had caused sloppy errors that had cost him duels in which he ought to have prevailed.  Anakin would have won more titles, certainly, had he not been promoted to Knight before his twenty-first birthday.  And neither Luke nor Danaé ever had made it past the quarterfinals.  

"So you see my point.  I have four, Skywalkers have three.  Hardly an impressive record."  

"I'll make a deal with you, Mara," Luke sighed as he dove into another evasive roll.  "If you can match my father's streak in the Knights' bracket, I'll concede your point."  After sitting out his first two years of Knighthood focusing on other matters, Anakin had won the title fifteen consecutive years, repeatedly defeating such luminaries as Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Oga Trill, and Ki-Adi-Mundi in the process.  After that the competition had lost its appeal to him, and he had not entered since.  

"You're on," she smirked, aiming a blazing triple-double attack at his head.  

On the other side of the large room Anakin's and Danaé's testing of Obi-Wan's defenses had continued relentlessly.  Confident his friend had received all the practice he needed, Anakin was about to call a halt when he sensed a presence approaching in the hallway outside.  He spun smoothly away from the two-on-one duel.  "Obi-Wan, why don't you turn the tables on Danaé for a while?  There's someone I'd like to talk to."  With simple nods the pair continued their sparring without interruption.  

After his Master's death on Naboo over thirty years ago, Obi-Wan had switched from Qui-Gon's favored acrobatic, tumbling style – ironically the same style his own apprentice preferred – to a focus on defensive techniques.  Whether blasters or lightsabers he would be in little danger.  To test Danaé, however, he needed to shift to the offensive, so he began to attack her with the short, quick moves of the classical fencer, which rarely even were taught to Jedi anymore.  As he drove her back, he sensed her drawing on the living Force, relying on her instincts and intuitions rather than a concerted strategy.  A small smile crossed his face: she fought like Qui-Gon, if not as well. 

She blocked and parried easily, letting the Force guide her actions and concentrating hard to fend off the unfamiliar technique.  Without a passion for lightsaber dueling like her father and Mara, and less interest in it even than her brother, Danaé had trained in the contemporary, default Jedi technique that combined elements of the older defensive, offensive, and acrobatic styles without reaching mastery in any one of them.  This always had been enough for her.  Until now.  As she parried away another series of strikes from Master Kenobi, she began to wonder whether she had made a mistake in allowing her skills to develop this way.  Ducking to avoid a high blow she almost failed to anticipate, she decided to speak to her father about it once the mission was over.  

When Anakin reached the open door to the docking bay he found Han leaning against the doorframe on his right shoulder, hands crammed into the pockets of his pants, watching the two duels taking place inside.  "Care to join us, Captain Solo?" he winked.  

Han chuckled, for the first time without any hint of nervousness in his tone.  "Thank you for the offer, Master Skywalker, but I'd prefer to keep all of my appendages."  

"Very well."  Anakin leaned against the opposite side of the doorframe on his left shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest.  "My apprentice informs me she talked you into joining us for the rescue operation on Xixus."

"That's the way she tells it, is it?"  Han's eyes flickered in indignation.  "She offered; I accepted.  There was no persuasion involved."  

Anakin let a pleased laugh roll from his abdomen.  "She has a way of interpreting the truth that I find quite interesting."  He met Han's curious gaze.  "But she won't let you down in the field, Captain.  I promise you that."  

"I don't doubt it."  Han's eyes had turned back to the blindingly fast pace of the duel between Mara and Luke.  It was impressive.  Most impressive.  

For his entire walk over and during their conversation, Anakin had probed Han through the Force, reading his emotions and feelings and judging the character of the man.  He too was most impressed.  "I'll admit something, Captain.  I had a platoon of Special Forces troops here earlier to assist in this rescue operation, until they were ordered away to guard the peace summit at Malastare.  Without them, I was concerned about the mission.  As much as I trust my apprentice and my son, sending the two of them alone is not a good idea.  There is too much involved, even for two Jedi."  He met Han's intrigued stare again.  "I think with you and Commander Chewbacca and Lieutenant Commander Calrissian, we'll be very well positioned to succeed."  

"Thank you, Master Skywalker," Han nodded humbly.  "We will do our best."

"As you always do, Captain Solo.  I would expect nothing less."  Without speaking, the two men watched the duels with great focus for several more minutes.  

Suddenly Anakin lunged away from the wall and began to walk out into the spacious room.  "I apologize, Captain, but I have to attend to something."  

In a few quick strides Anakin had made his way to the duel between Luke and Mara.  His right hand snapped up from his hip, his blue blade forming a whirling disc of light from its handle rotating in his palm.  _Out of my way, Mara_, he ordered through the Force.  

His apprentice spun away as he arrived.  Anakin's blade crashed into Luke's in an immensely powerful two-handed swing that almost sent Luke staggering.  The immediate return arc smashed Luke's lightsaber completely out of position.  The reversed pull of the third strike knocked the weapon from Luke's hand and sent him sprawling to the floor.  In an instant his father towered over him, the point of his turquoise laser sword at Luke's throat.  

From dozens of yards away Han's eyes met Mara's.  Even she had not thought what they just had witnessed was possible.  Obi-Wan and Danaé had sensed the lightning-fast victory in the Force and had stopped their own sparring to see what was going on.  

"Father?" Luke gasped quietly, afraid to move.  

"After what we discussed, how could you fight this way?"  Anakin's stare pierced Luke's soul like a dagger.  

"I don't understand."  

The blade retracted into its handle and Anakin let his outstretched right arm fall to his side.  "If you cannot control your emotions fighting Mara, you will have no chance against a Sith.  None."  He shook his head sadly.  "You're as good as dead." 

"I…" 

The Jedi Master would hear no excuses.  "Your anger makes you weak."  

Ripping his eyes from Luke's, Anakin spun on his heel and headed back toward Han.  He cast a quick glance at Obi-Wan, who nodded approvingly.  The abject humiliation Luke just had suffered was a far more effective teacher than any lesson Obi-Wan could have designed for his apprentice.  

Before Anakin reached Han again, his comlink beeped.  He pulled it from his belt and read the short text message from Admiral Mirkalla.  He stopped in his tracks and used his eyes to catch the attention of the other five.  

"We have the information we need.  We launch in twenty minutes."  


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

The hallway was nondescript and bare.  A few doors and several dim light disks were the only features on the gray walls, ceiling, and floor.  Yet it was anything but an ordinary hallway.  

Around the corner strode three figures, two tall men to either side of a short woman.  Each was dressed in a black tunic and pants, black boots and gloves, and a billowing black cloak with the hood drawn up.  Without speaking they walked to an undistinguished door and the woman waved it open.  The room they entered was small, with barely enough room for the conference table and seven chairs that filled the space.  The lighting was low, leaving the room dark and deep in shadow.  

In the single chair at the head of the rectangular mahogany table sat a fourth figure.  The woman, slightly taller than the female arrival, wore the same attire at the others.  She did not rise to greet them.  The two men took seats at the leader's left, the woman to her right.  As they sat down they unclipped lightsaber handles from their belts and placed them on the table in front of them.  The leader's hand rose from beneath the table and placed a lightsaber handle on the table as well.  The black hoods continued to cover their faces.  

"Welcome to the first meeting of our Council in over a millennium," the leader said.  Her voice was a deep contralto, filled with sparks of malice and severity.  "My plan is now in motion.  The time for hidden reasons and secret details has ended.  From today forward you will be full participants in my design."

"Yes, Master," the three others said in unison.  

The leader turned to the woman.  "Lady Delicti, what is the status at Xixus?"

"The bait has not yet drawn the prey, Master," she replied calmly. 

"And what of the interrogation?"

"Her willpower is quite strong, Master.  Some amount of pain and compulsion was necessary to break her.  We learned what we could.  She seems to be surprisingly ill-informed." 

Beneath the cowl of her cloak the leader smiled.  "Interesting.  And the death of her husband?" 

"She does not yet know of our involvement, Master.  I am certain of it."  

"Very good," the leader chuckled darkly.  "I am confident Lady Savager will serve admirably with Lord Nefarious until your return."  She turned to face the man sitting farther away on her left.  "Lord Barbarus, how is General Tarkin?" 

"He is well, Master," the grim, baritone voice answered quickly.  "His treatment in prison was adequate, but he is old and no longer in prime health.  With the greater nourishment and supplements we have provided, he will be in superior condition within weeks."  

"Excellent.  His assistance will improve our strategies considerably."  She glanced quickly to the man at her left elbow.  "In the meantime we will continue operations as planned."  

The tall man remained silent as he nodded his assent.  

"And Lady Delicti," the leader continued, "what of our other project?" 

"Soon, Master," the shorter woman asserted proudly.  "Our task is nearly completed.  Lady Savager has performed remarkably with her…  persuasion.  Soon he will be one of us." 

"Then perhaps tonight I will check on our progress with you," the leader chuckled in amusement.  When her apprentice nodded, she chuckled again.  "Perhaps I will even… persuade… him myself."  

"Yes, Master," Lady Delicti agreed.  

"Now it is time for the true purpose of our meeting.  My plan is focused on a singular theme," the leader began slowly and deliberately.  "We will not fail as Sidious did."  

"Yes, Master," the trio responded in unison again.  

"Sidious was a strategic genius, a mastermind beyond compare.  His ambition was great, something to which we all aspire.  And yet he failed.  He failed for one reason, and one reason alone.  A defect in his own character."  She paused, her hidden eyes taking in each apprentice in turn.  "Overconfidence.  His overconfidence was his weakness."  

"Yes, Master."

"Sidious attempted too much at once.  We all have read his plans, studied his schemes.  Had they succeeded, he would have destroyed the Republic and eliminated the Jedi Order in one triumphant stroke.  Brilliant in theory.  But only in theory."  

"Yes, Master."

"Had the Chosen One not appeared, perhaps his plans could have proceeded as they were.  But he did not adjust sufficiently them to account for his presence.  He did not prepare for the possibility that his manipulations of the Chosen One might not succeed.  It cost him his life and destroyed all that he worked so carefully to establish." 

"Yes, Master."  

"And so our new plan must address the most important issue first.  The Chosen One can destroy us.  The Jedi prophecy foresees it, and so does our own.  And yet there are Jedi prophecies, and our prophecies, that have proven false.  We must ensure this one is false as well."

"Yes, Master."

"This is why we begin with the Chosen One.  Until he is gone, we cannot succeed.  We have set the first trap for him, to lure him into a situation of our choosing where we control his fate.  For now this is all I will say.  But do not think other contingencies have not been considered, for they have.  If we do not succeed while we hold the element of surprise, then we will turn the Chosen One against himself."  

"Yes, Master."

"As a youth he drew upon our powers on more than one occasion before he repented.  He used the Force to kill from anger and hate – repeatedly.  He believes that he has cleansed the dark side from his soul.  But that cannot be done.  Once you set foot down the dark path, it remains in your spirit forever.  It becomes your destiny.  Even if Chosen One will not admit it, he knows it to be true.  There is still darkness in him.  And we will compel him to confront the dark side once more.  It is a test he will not survive.  He will join us or die."  

"Yes, Master."

"But it is not sufficient to destroy the Chosen One.  The prophecies did not foresee his offspring.  This alone is evidence the predictions may not come to pass.  But there can be little doubt his kin are a threat to us.  His son and daughter already are powerful Jedi.  The Force is quite strong in them; I can sense it.  They must be destroyed as well, or we cannot be certain they will not interfere with our designs."

"Yes, Master."

"Be mindful, my young apprentices, of what is at stake.  It is not enough to remove the Chosen One from our path and to destroy his Jedi children.  His other son and daughter remain a threat to us.  For their own children could inherit their grandfather's power.  Just as it did not pass to all his offspring, it could pass to later generations through parents who are not themselves Jedi.  It is for this reason all the Chosen One's children must be destroyed.  The Chosen One is not the only threat to us.  His entire bloodline must be wiped out.  All of them."  

"Yes, Master."  

"Only after we have removed the Chosen One as an obstacle, and after we have drained his bloodline from the galaxy, can we turn to the next phase of our destiny.  Sidious knew well that the entire Jedi Order must be annihilated.  With the Chosen One gone it will be easy.  There is a plan for it, but it must wait until the first step of our design is complete."

"Yes, Master."  

"And then, only after the Jedi Order has been eliminated, can we fulfill the final phase of our grand scheme.  Without the Jedi the Republic is nothing.  It will fall beneath the boots of our troops and the swings of our lightsabers with little resistance.  At the end we will have achieved all that Sidious sought to do.  But we will succeed.  We will succeed because we have learned from his errors and guarded against overconfidence and excessive ambition.  We must be patient, my young apprentices.  Patient."

"Yes, Master."  

"This is our design.  It is inevitable.  I have foreseen it."

"Yes, Master."  

The four dark figures sat in silence, pondering the weight of the destiny that had been passed down to them over hundreds and hundreds of years by secret pairs of master and apprentice.  Now, finally, after so much time and preparation the utility of the Rule of Two had come to an end.  They were a small band, enough to ensure victory but not so many as would breed the rivalries and assassinations that had weakened their forebears.  The time for the ways of the past had ended, and the time to face the future had arrived.  

"My young apprentices, pose to me any questions you may have," the leader said calmly.  

"Master," Lady Delicti asked quietly, "the reason we were to be careful not to kill the Senator was so that she may serve as bait?" 

"Yes, my young apprentice.  You understand."

"Yes, Master," she nodded.  "But should the Chosen One not come for her, what then?  What if his wife insists upon negotiation?  What if they seek a peaceful resolution?" 

"A fair question," the leader smiled, her mouth barely visible in the dim lights of the room and the deep shadows of her hood.  "We will not return her alive."  A sinister chuckle passed her lips.  "I suppose I will let Darth Nefarious have his fun.  Then she will be killed.  I will slay her myself, if possible.  But any one of us will do."  

"Yes, Master," Lady Delicti whispered.  

"Any other questions, my young apprentices?"  The leader shifted her head to gaze intensely at each of the three others at the table.  "Then the meeting of the Council is adjourned."  The four dark figures rose from their chairs and clipped their lightsaber handles back to their belts.  

Before they headed to the door, Barbarus affected a deep, hoarse voice.  "At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi.  At last we will have revenge."  

His three colleagues burst out in laughter, which he immediately joined.  It took several minutes for them to regain their composure.  

"What have I told you about the old holodiaries, Lord Barbarus?" the leader demanded in a voice filled with attempted but unsuccessful sinister tones.  

"To leave them be," he replied through his last fits of mirth.  

"Lord Maul was too single-minded, my young apprentices," the leader explained.  "Hatred gives us power.  Their failure to hate makes the Jedi weak.  But do not let your hatred so control your mind that you cannot understand its proper role.  Hatred is our fuel.  It is not our purpose."  

"Yes, Master," the three apprentices said quietly, by now utterly and profoundly serious.  

"There will be no penance, Lord Barbarus, so long as you do not repeat this."  

"Yes, Master Vengous, of course."  

With that the four dark figures left the room, leaving its pale lights and grim shadows behind them.  

---

Bryon Skywalker carefully moved the crosshairs of his telescopic scope past each member of the New Justice delegation at the peace summit on Malastare.  There were eight negotiators at the main table and sixty-four assistants, translators, and other aides in the rows of chairs behind them.  Purportedly they had agreed to the same security arrangement as the Republic delegates: soldiers in the background to provide protection, with no armed individuals on the floor of the Great Hall.  Bryon did not trust the New Justice representatives in the slightest.  

He lay in a prone position on the floor of one of the four small balconies in the corners of the ceiling of the spacious, extravagant room, the one over the right shoulders of the Republic team.  Several plain cushions supported his weight and prevented his black armored suit from touching the stone floor.  The end of the long barrel of his sniper rifle swiveled on its tripod, guided by the fingers of his left hand and his right on the grip.  For now his trigger finger rested along the underside of the thin metal bar that shielded the trigger.  As he swept the crosshairs over the delegates again he squeezed off an imaginary shot at each individual.  In this arrangement he determined could take out his thirty-six targets within ten seconds.  

The other thirty-six were the responsibility of Will Graff, who lay in an identical sniper's perch on the balcony to his left.  He and Bryon were by far the most skilled long-range shooters in the platoon, so this task naturally fell to them.  In addition, from this vantage point they had the best possible view to give additional orders should the necessity arise.  Beneath them the nearly fifty Special Forces soldiers under their command had secured the lower balconies, the entrances, and the tunnels on the Republic side of the Great Hall.  

Bryon drew his scope away from the floor and scanned the chamber.  He was surprised to see that the New Justice security team had not placed snipers in their corresponding balconies across the arching, beautifully painted ceiling.  One of his men below was on the watch for them, however, and knew exactly where to shoot if necessary.  There were Vyhrragian soldiers on the lower balconies and the rear areas of the floor of the hall, although these men did not wear the distinctive green fatigues and tan body armor of the brownshirts.  Nevertheless, Bryon assumed these guards were the highly skilled shocktroops, even if they did not dress like it.  

The Special Forces were maintaining comlink silence to minimize the ability of the Vyhrragians to monitor them and determine their strategy.  As the fourth hour of the summit began, it was time for the brief status check.  In his ear Bryon heard the soft hiss of static as the comlink activated.  

"Shaak Base, standing by," said the communications officer below.  

Bryon always liked to use code words that reminded him of Naboo.  

Shaak One, Two, Three, and Four checked in without elaboration.  "Shaak Sun, all clear," Will's whispered voice announced over the feed, barely audible over the buzz on the line.  

"Shaak Moon, all clear," Bryon said quietly.  

"Shaak Base out."  No news was good news. 

Bryon scanned the room again and again, concentrating on every detail and watching every movement and motion below.  Nothing was amiss.  And perhaps nothing would be.  But Bryon was reluctant to accept it.  As his scope slowly traced precise loops through the seated delegates, Bryon's mind brought him back to their last mission.  

The Republic's spies had determined that a forested moon in one of the first systems to join the New Justice movement was being used as a principal base for the Vyhrragian piracy attacks along the Corellian Trade Spine.  The strikes were disrupting commercial traffic and causing considerable consternation in the Senate, and a decision had been made in the highest levels of the Navy and Army to wipe out the pirates' staging ground.  

Bryon's platoon had been inserted a short distance from the Vyhrragian compound.  Triple-checked reports told them to expect about two hundred brownshirts on guard.  Instead they launched their initial attacks on the perimeter of the base only to discover that an unanticipated troop ship was unloading and their opponents numbered nearly one thousand.  And their retraction team was not due for another hour.  Improvising on the run, half of the platoon feigned retreat while the others stormed directly into the brownshirts toward the command center.  After a pair of thermal detonators destroyed the bunker and left the brownshirts without communications or control facilities, the Special Forces troops systematically fanned out across the base to take control.  

In the end all of his men miraculously had survived.  The brownshirts were not so lucky; to the last man they had refused to be taken alive.  

Bryon had led a massacre.  

He found it difficult to believe that the intelligence reports could have been so wrong.  Perhaps supporters of the Supreme Chancellor had sought to use a failed covert strike as evidence that war would accomplish nothing.  Or perhaps proponents of war with Argis had hoped to trigger a wider conflict with the retaliation that would be certain to follow a failed operation so deep behind Vyhrragian lines.  His platoon's victory, however, would not expose the truth.  The Vyhrragians could not admit the staggering defeat, and neither side of the Republic could gain from it.  The Chancellor's faction would not want to admit the success of the very measures they opposed, and the warmongers would not benefit from wide publicity of unmitigated butchery.  

Bryon believed his units had been sent to the slaughter.  Why, he still had no idea.  

As he trained the rifle's sight on the lead New Justice negotiator and let his finger slide up to rest against the trigger, he wondered whether his platoon had been set up for disaster this time too.  

---

Hours later Bryon made his way slowly down the yellow-and-red hotel hallway toward the suite housing the Naboo contingent of the Republic delegates.  He was pleasantly surprised that nothing untoward had occurred at the summit.  So far.  And he was very relieved that for the first mission in a long time he hadn't had to kill anyone.  So far.  With other Army soldiers securing the hotel, he had been able to remove his armor and change into simple black fatigues.  He'd strapped a pair of large blaster pistols to his hips, though, just in case.  He couldn't help it. 

Sabé would be busy, he knew, but Bryon had not yet had the chance to see her privately.  Even if the only thing they could do was share brief hello, he would be satisfied.  He couldn't exactly spend all this time here protecting her mother and then tell Sarré he hadn't actually spoken with her.  

By the time he entered the suite, he mostly had managed to calm his thoughts.  The intensity of his focus was necessary for success.  Nevertheless, sometimes he felt like he became a different person when his mind was concentrating so fiercely on his surroundings, when his eyes were scanning for any little movements in the shadows, when his ears were listening for anything abnormal, and when his trigger finger was ready to fire a kill shot at anyone, anywhere, anytime, for any reason.  It was necessary to be that way and he knew it.  But it was cold-blooded.  And that bothered him.  

He stayed close to the walls of the large, elegantly appointed receiving room, avoiding the small crowd of staff and the dozen or so Naboo soldiers standing guard.  Before he could locate Sabé a small, happy figure bounded his way.  

Nalé had a spring in her step, the kind common to those whose youthful innocence as yet had made no accommodation for the disillusionment and cynicism of adulthood.  "Hey, Bryon," she smiled as she rushed to him and gave him a hug. 

"Hi, Nalé," he grinned, squeezing her tight enough to make her squirm as she rested her head against his breastbone.  "Is your mother around?"

"She's meeting with Senator Rylla in his suite," Nalé answered, breaking the friendly embrace.  "She'll be back pretty soon, though, I think.  How's Sarré?"

Bryon looked at her quizzically.  _Does she know I was just with her?  Or is she assuming I've talked to her?_  He decided to play it casually.  "She's fine."

Nalé smirked.  "I know you were both at Sullust.  So tell me.  Have you done it yet?"

Bryon felt his face flushing but tried to stay cool.  "Done what?"  He would play dumb to force her hand and maybe this subject would go away. 

"Right.  Like you don't know what I mean." 

"It's none of your business."

"So that's yes," Nalé winked.  

Now she had trapped him.  "Fine.  You win."  Bryon glared hard into Nalé's brown eyes, distracting her long enough to shift his right hand onto the handle of his pistol and switch the setting to stun.  Not that he was going to use it on her, of course, but it made him feel better.  "No.  We haven't."

"Why not?"

"_That_ is most definitely none of your business."  

"Oh," she smirked again.  "Did _you_ have a problem?"  The look in her eyes was smoldering and mischievous.  

Bryon could not believe he was having this conversation with Sarré's fifteen-year-old sister.  But he had no idea at all how to extricate himself.  "No," he insisted far more vehemently than he had intended.  "We decided to wait.  We decided that a while ago."  

"To wait for what?  Your birthday or something?"

This was getting worse and worse every second and still he could think of nowhere to go with it instead.  Maybe he _should_ shoot her.  "No.  Until we're married."  

The admission did not faze Nalé in the slightest and she continued without missing a beat.  "Why?"

Bryon now was completely baffled.  He had been certain that mentioning the concept of he and Sarré getting married would shock Nalé into submission and distract her from the conversation entirely.  Apparently not.  Apparently she was perfectly at ease with the idea.  

"Why?" she asked again, unimpressed by his silence.  

"Why?  We were both raised on Naboo.  It's part of our culture, our heritage, our values.  We're supposed to wait.  And it's the right thing to do."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Nalé laughed in frustration.  "You love each other.  Nobody does that anymore.  Your parents didn't.  My parents didn't.  Leia…"  

_In the name of all that is sacred in the universe, stop now!  If you include yourself in this list I'm going to die._  

She was so engrossed in tormenting him she didn't see the changed expression on his face.  "…and Jarren didn't.  And…"

"Enough!"  The word was deep and dark.  Angry.  Vicious.  His mission voice.  He hadn't meant to use it with her.  But it was too late.  

Nalé stared at him.  There was fear in her eyes.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down at the floor.  "I was just trying to be funny.  I was only teasing you."  

"I know," Bryon replied calmly.  "I'm sorry.  I overreacted."  He reached out and pulled Nalé into a hug again.  "I'm really sorry."  He held her close for a few seconds to be sure she got the point.  

Nalé stepped back again.  "It's okay."  She poked him squarely in the middle of his chest with one finger.  "Look, I know you and Sarré are in love.  Really in love.  Everyone assumes you're going to get married.  But this, well, nobody knows for sure about you guys.  So I just wanted to be the first to know, that's all.  I'm never the first one to know anything.  I wanted to get the jump on my mom or your mom or Leia for once.  Just once."  

Bryon smiled.  "Well, then you did win today after all."  She was looking at him with a very confused expression on her face.  "We haven't told anyone about this decision.  You're the first to know." 

Nalé's grin brightened and split all the way across her face.  "You're the best, Bryon!"  Then something caught her eyes behind him and distracted her.  "Here comes my mom," she indicated with a tilt of her head.  "I should let you talk to her."  

"Thank you," Bryon nodded.  He started to turn around to go meet up with Sabé.  He turned back when he heard Nalé's voice again.  

"Bryon?"

"Yes?"

"I think it's great what you're doing.  What you and my sister decided.  I think it's great."  

He could tell she was being completely sincere.  "Thanks," he smiled.  

She winked at him again.  "Just don't tell Sarré I said so, okay?"

He wouldn't deprive the sisters of their own version of this truly uncomfortable discussion.  "I won't.  I promise."  Then he spun on his heel and squeezed his way past the staff to greet her mother.  

Sabé saw him coming.  "Bryon!  It's so good to see you," she smiled broadly, pulling him into a warm embrace.  

"Hello, Sabé," he replied happily.  Taking a step back from her, he marveled at how much she still resembled his mother.  Not enough to pass for her decoy anymore, perhaps, but in her royal blue gown and elaborate Naboo hairstyle she really did look a lot like Padmé.  

"Come with me for a moment," Sabé requested, taking Bryon by the hand and pulling him toward the converted bedchamber temporarily serving as her private office.  Once inside she waved the door closed behind them.  "You're enormous," she said simply.  

He wasn't quite sure what that meant.  "Thank you?"  

"Oh, Bryon, I don't mean anything by it.  It's just that every time I see you, it seems like you've grown more." 

"Well, I'm not any taller than last year," he declared, "but I have gained some weight."  He smirked just like his father.  "All of it muscle."  

Sabé laughed at the similarity of the facial tic.  "_That_ I believe."  She flopped unceremoniously into the chair at her desk.  "What's the latest from Sullust?  How is your mother holding up?  How is everyone?"

Bryon did his best to explain what he knew about the plans being made aboard the _Invictus_, although he hadn't been able to receive an update yet.  And he tried to reassure Sabé as much as he could about Padmé and Sarré and the others.  "And how is the summit?"  

"It's worthless," Sabé groaned.  "Our team is giving everything away, and Argis' people are giving nothing in return.  Whatever deal is struck is going to be a disgrace.  But there's little I can do to stop it."  Then Sabé smiled.  "So you finally got to see Sarré again.  How did that go?" 

"Well," he said quietly.  "It went well."  For once he did not feel anxious talking about this.  He couldn't figure out why, although maybe it simply was that his confession to Nalé had lifted a heavy weight from his spirit.  "I really missed her.  And I hadn't treated her right.  I stayed away from her when really what I need more than anything was her.  I don't know why I did that.  I realize now I was wrong and I won't do it again.  Ever.  I got to apologize, and I think she forgave me.  At least I hope so."  

Sabé was astonished at the way he had spilled his feelings to her so openly.  It seemed very unlike him.  And that was a good thing.  She pushed off the armrests of her chair and stepped over to stand in front of him.  She looked deeply into his eyes and squeezed his left hand with her right.  "Of course she did, Bryon.  She loves you."  

Bryon blushed deeply and nodded shyly.  He felt ridiculous.  A few minutes ago he had been a cold, determined soldier.  Now talking about Sarré had turned him into a blubbering fool.  And he realized the words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them.  "I love her too."  

"No kidding," she laughed.  Then she winked.  "Quit trying to hide it." 


	10. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

In the darkest hour of night on the side of the planet Xixus opposite its sun, the sky was as black as the most intense obsidian stones in the galaxy.  The thick layers of industrial pollution that filled the world's upper atmosphere entirely blocked the light from the stars and the three moons, nor did any light project upward from the vast, toxically contaminated ocean below.  Only a thin trail of pale yellow particles traced across the sky, no doubt the remnants of a meteor or orbital debris plummeting to a watery landing.  

The carefully controlled descent of the _Lady Vader_ would have fooled any observer present.  The powerful signal-jamming technology aboard the starship also prevented detection by the sensors and automated monitors in orbit and on the surface.  And although the Vyhrragians might be anticipating a rescue, they would have no reason to expect it at this moment rather than any other time.  

Aboard the unique starship a few quick adjustments had converted the small cabin lounge to a passenger seating area.  Strapped into their jumpseats, they waited for their chance at heroism.  

Han Solo was restless.  It had been almost seven standard days since the _Millennium Falcon_ had responded to the Navy's emergency bulletin.  He had assumed that by now they would have found the frigate holding the Senator, rescued her from it, received their commendations, and returned to their relaxing leave.  Instead they had performed a mind-numbingly dull reconnaissance operation and now were descending toward an enemy planet full of soldiers.  It should have been so simple, so easy, so quick.  There was no reason it should have taken as long as it already had.  At this point he was ready to kill someone.  Although this rescue plan purportedly would flow smoothly, he had no doubt the brownshirts would give him the opportunity he desired.  

Chewbacca was amused.  Once again he had caught himself questioning the Wookiee institution of the life-debt.  He loved Han like a brother and would give his own life for his friend without regret.  When their reconnaissance mission had ended, however, they could have left in the _Falcon_ to finish their vacation.  Except here he was, uncomfortably compressed into a seat far too small for him, for no reason he could determine other than Han's unhealthy compulsion for career advancement.  Or perhaps it was a need to impress the redheaded Jedi.  And clearly the other young Jedi had some deeply personal reason for wanting to rescue this particular Senator, a reason no one had bothered to explain to them and about which they had not been bold enough to ask.  So she was going to be rescued whether they went along or not.  Yet here he was.  

Lando Calrissian was nervous.  Until now the Republic's conflict with Argis and his New Justice movement had been easy to view dispassionately.  Although he had been born and raised on Vyhrrag, he had left to join the Academy many years before the tyrant seized power.  In the Special Operations Division his knowledge of the planet had made him an important analyst of intelligence information and his ability to speak the local language had been quite helpful in cracking several Vyhrragian codes and ciphers.  All of this, however, had been from a distance.  Now the crisis was personal.  Below him on this planet were thousands of brownshirts and other Vyhrragian soldiers whom he might have to confront.  Most likely no one he knew would be among them, whether volunteer or conscripted; the odds told him that he would not have to kill an old friend or acquaintance.  But it was possible.  So he tried not to think about the odds.  

Obi-Wan Kenobi was contemplative.  As he prepared himself for the possibility of facing down a Sith Lord again, he could not help but think of Qui-Gon Jinn.  So many years ago their simple diplomatic mission to Naboo had unraveled into the discovery of the Chosen One and the definitive reemergence of the Sith.  Virtually everything in his life since that fateful hour in the generator facility of Theed Palace's main hangar connected in some way or another to his Master's death and dying wish.  Back then it all had been so sudden, so unexpected.  This time, at least, he and his Padawan knew the Sith were lurking somewhere, waiting to strike.  The Chosen One would be with him, in spirit if not in body.  And with the full advantage of foresight he had prepared himself for the possibility that this clash between good and evil might cost his life or his Padawan's.  He didn't want to die.  But he was ready to pay that price if his duty required it. 

Mara Jade was determined.  She knew the Council would permit her to take the Trials and become a Jedi Knight when she was ready.  Her training was quite advanced and her willpower and judgment had improved greatly in recent years.  In her heart she believed she would succeed in the Trials were she allowed to take them.  On this mission, then, she had a chance to demonstrate to her Master and the Council her preparation and maturity.  By succeeding quickly, calmly, and with self-control she would prove her readiness.  After that, finally, she might obtain the goal for which she had been striving her entire life: to be a Jedi Knight.  Yet the mission also carried risk, for if she failed – in the objectives or in her role as a Jedi – her chance to achieve her ambition would disappear for the foreseeable future.  She could not let that happen.  

Luke Skywalker was perplexed.  For the past four weeks he had been away from the Temple.  And just now he had experienced the epiphany that in that time, he had not spent more than a total of a few seconds thinking about Ralli Gialla.  The young woman with whom he had spent many nights and most days the previous three months.  The short, petite, blonde Jedi Padawan from Corellia.  She was a good friend and a fabulous lover – but he did not miss her, not in his heart.  Even more interesting, he realized he didn't care that she wasn't the other apprentice a few seats away.  With great surprise he found himself thinking that in fact he was quite pleased it was Mara instead.  Not because he had any romantic feelings toward Mara, of course; the very idea of that made him shudder.  But to save his sister's life and possibly fight a Sith Lord, there was no other Padawan in the Temple he would want at his side.  He never would admit it to her, but her skills truly did rival his own.  And for that reason and that reason alone he was glad to have Mara here.  It was a strange and most unanticipated emotion.  

In the cockpit of the _Lady Vader_ the three crew monitored the flight path, the sensors and signal-jammers, and the status of the ship's engines and weapons.  

R2-D2 and R2-J2 were preoccupied.  As they plunged through the atmosphere, Artoo downloaded the last set of Vyhrragian codes and passwords that the Special Operations Division had provided right before their departure.  The data no doubt would be quite useful on the mission.  Jaytoo calculated the most efficient departure arc for this trip and the most direct entry trajectory for the second trip to come.  Not that his master would know the difference, of course, but every last second he saved them would make it that much more likely they all would return in one piece.  And simultaneously with all of this Artoo and Jaytoo worked out elaborate rules for a wager about how long the mission would last.  The loser would be required to spend three uninterrupted hours with Threepio.  

Anakin Skywalker was wistful.  When he was younger this was the kind of mission for which he always had yearned.  A covert operation on an enemy planet, infiltration of a prison to rescue a hostage, and escape in triumph to glory and the love of waiting family.  But now he was a Jedi Master.  This mission required a pilot to insert the team, wait patiently on the dark side of the second moon for the signal in the Force, and then fly in and extract the group.  All without being detected.  For such a task the _Lady Vader_ was the obvious starship and he was the obvious pilot.  There was no way for him to avoid this role in Leia's rescue, and he had not considered even for a moment suggesting otherwise.  He would do his duty, as he had done for more than twenty years.  And yet deep down inside, in the part of his soul that only Padmé ever saw anymore, he felt the smallest twinge of regret and jealousy.  That tiny part of him wanted to trade places with his Padawan or his son.  Without remorse he took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and banished those thoughts back to the depths of exile where they belonged. 

---

Her eyes trained on the stars outside the gigantic aperture of the main docking bay of the Republic Navy destroyer _Invictus_, Danaé Skywalker adjusted the folds of her Jedi robes for the third time, checked the tightness of her belt for the fifth, and reassuringly reached down for her lightsaber for the tenth.  It was time to go.  To rescue her sister she would be returning to the planet where her Master, Oga Trill, had disappeared without a trace half a year ago.  It was a sobering prospect, but her desperate wish to see her sister safe far outweighed the regret and self-doubt that still plagued her about her Master.  

She was ready.  

Not that she had a choice.  But she was. 

She removed the pair of brown leather gloves from her belt and pulled them snugly over her hands.  One last time she made sure the single long braid of brown hair down her back was tight and secure, then tucked her thin Padawan braid behind her right ear.  With only a moment's thought she launched herself from the floor in a Force-assisted standing leap.  A heartbeat later she landed gracefully in the cockpit of Luke's X-Wing starfighter, her hands seizing the restraints and snapping them across her chest the same instant she plopped into the seat.  She adjusted the fit of the restraints a bit further, then reacquainted her hands with the feel of the control stick.  Luke's Arfour unit toodled a greeting to let her know the ship was prepared fully already, making her smile.  Before she reached for the plain white helmet, she looked to her right.  

Sarré Bellion, her close friend and no doubt someday soon her younger brother's wife, had climbed the boarding ladder and seated herself in the cockpit of Mara's matching maroon-and-white X-Wing.  She tugged the restraints over her dark blue flight suit, then felt Danaé's gaze and glanced over.  "I'm ready," she smiled calmly.  "Let's go get her."  

Danaé nodded and slipped the helmet over her head.  She yanked the chinstrap on tightly and flipped the switch to lower the transparisteel canopy.  She was struggling not to be distracted by her excitement that finally they would have Leia back.  

A few short minutes earlier her father had spoken to her through the Force to signal that the rescue team had been inserted successfully on Xixus.  With the _Invictus_ now only a short distance outside Vyhrragian territory, the X-Wings would make a micro-jump in hyperspace to just beyond the Xixus system until Anakin signaled Danaé the same way again.  Then the X-Wings would micro-jump to a location right above the planet, providing cover for the _Lady Vader_'s rapid escape with Leia aboard.  

Danaé flew out of the docking bay first.  She marveled at the glittering array of stars in all directions in deep space; it looked very different than emerging into space within a star system, where the light of the planets and sun blocked out many of the background stars.  Not like here.  It was a beautiful sight.  She spun the nose of the X-Wing in a short arc to point toward Xixus.  Arfour reported that the jump was calculated and activated.  

"Ready?" asked Danaé simply over the comlink.  There was no need for code names and military communications protocols for this simple flight.  

Within a few seconds she heard the confirmations she expected.  "Good.  Stick with me and follow my lead.  I've flown in combat more recently than you have."  Despite herself, she couldn't help from making a final comment aloud.  "And if I hear any complaints from Dad about this, you're in trouble.  Really, really big trouble."

When the laughter subsided over the comlink, Danaé gave the order.  "May the Force be with us.  On my mark."  One last deep breath.  

"Now."

---

Under cover of night – the profoundly deep absence of light that afflicted the poisoned industrial planet of Xixus – the five-member group moved like apparitions among the shadows.  Han and Lando wore all-black military fatigues that blended in perfectly.  Chewie wore simply a bandolier of ammunition for his bowcaster and let his thick, dark-brown fur do the rest.  Luke and Mara wore tan Jedi robes, yet in the blackness of the hour they were little more than flickering ghosts as they darted between buildings.  

Their short jog into the city from the outskirts to arrive at the tall structure that was their destination had taken place without a hitch.  Now they stood at a side maintenance door, waiting to begin the truly dangerous element of their mission.  In a concealed alcove well out of sight Artoo had plugged himself into the building's computer network.  On their signal he would deactivate all the security cameras in the building for the Vyhrragians while keeping them fully functional for himself.  That way he would be able to provide whatever guidance he could while they were inside.  When the astromech blooped his readiness Lando tapped a quick code into his datapad, which was wired to the door panel.  

Immediately alarms began to sound from rooftops and emergency alert lights began to flash on several buildings further down the street.  In different parts of the city other false alarms also were being announced.  With these diversions to distract them the Vyhrragians would have a more difficult time responding to the rescue operation.  

A few moments later they stood inside the turbolift of the building.  As the lift slowed to the designated floor, they readied their weapons and calmed their thoughts.  A quick left turn in the hallway brought them to the entry to cellblock AA23.  

With Lando at his side and Chewie behind him, Han burst through the open doorway, a blaster pistol in each hand.  Luke and Mara hung back to avoid revealing the Jedi presence immediately.  

The four shocked officers at the console looked up and the six brownshirts in the sparse gray room reached for their weapons.  "What are you doing here?" demanded one of the green-clad officers.  

Han fired first.  

Two of the officers dropped from his shots while Chewie and Lando opened fire on the others.  Simultaneously Force-assisted long jumps sprang Luke and Mara into the fray, lightsabers blazing.  Although the brownshirts' tan body armor repelled a few bolts from their blasters, it was no match for the whirling, shimmering laser swords.  Within only a few seconds the ten enemy soldiers were dead.  The other three rescuers rushed to the console while Mara and Chewie moved to stand guard by the entrance.  She left her humming violet blade ignited as he peeked his head out to scan the hallway.  

Luke briefly closed his eyes and focused, facing down the narrow, dimly lit metal hallway of the cellblock.  "She's in the fifth cell on the right," he announced calmly before opening his eyes again.  "Go," he indicated to Han with his right hand, his deactivated lightsaber handle still clutched firmly.  "Get her." 

Lando plugged his datapad into the console to slice open the lock codes for the cell door.  After only a few seconds, however, the intercom emitted a piercing, high-pitched beep and then buzzed with static.  

"What's going on?" a Vyhrragian officer's voice demanded angrily.  

"Uh… nothing…  Uh, situation normal," Luke stammered, looking to Lando for guidance.  Calrissian simply shrugged, focused too intently on the slicing.  

"What happened?" the voice persisted, inflected with irritation and authority.  

"We had a slight weapons malfunction, that's all."  Luke lied very, very poorly.  "We're fine."

"I'm sending a squad down there," the voice declared imperially.  

Luke was out of ideas.  He waved the fingers of his left hand across the microphone.  "You won't send a squad down here."  

"Who is this?"  The voice now was truly incensed.  "What's your serial number?  And I most certainly am sending a squad down there!"  

In a flash Luke's turquoise lightsaber shattered the communications array on the console.  He met Lando's surprised stare with a lopsided smirk of chagrined embarrassment.  "I've never tried a mind trick over a comlink before.  How was I to know it wouldn't work?"  

Lando grinned broadly and laughed before he hollered down the dark cellblock hallway, where Han was standing with pistols ready.  "One second, buddy."

Han nodded.  

Luke turned to face Han too.  "Make it quick, Captain.  We're going to have company." 

With a satisfied smile Han turned to face the closed door again while he holstered his pistols.  A heartbeat later the door panel beeped and the indicator light changed from red to green.  He tapped the button and watched the door slide upward.  

---****

When Han stepped through the doorway he was quite surprised.  He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected Senator Leia Organa to look like, but this woman was not at all close to what he had imagined.  

She was sitting on the cot in her cell, knees hugged to her chest and her back against the wall, looking at him in confusion.  Dressed in a plain white diplomatic outfit that was covered with the dirt and grime of a weeks' imprisonment, she was petite – although unmistakably anything but weak.  Her long brown hair was tied into a tight braid that draped around her shoulder and knees, its tip clutched in her hands.  On her face he could see exhaustion, anger, fear, desperation, sadness, and perhaps a little bit of hope.  There was no question she looked worse for the wear from her captivity.  

And yet even in this condition she was beautiful.  Stunningly beautiful.  Angelic.  

With a look of bemused confrontation on her face she broke the awful silence between them.  "Aren't you a little underdressed to be a brownshirt?"  

"What?"  Han Solo was never flustered.  Except – apparently – now.  "Oh, right.  I'm Han Solo.  I'm here to rescue you," he declared matter-of-factly, extending his hand to her.  

"You're who?"  She did not sound the least bit impressed.  

"Captain Han Solo, Republic Navy."  He realized that she had no reason to trust him.  He might very well be faking a rescue as a pretense for the Vyhrragians to kill her during an escape.  So he tried to think of something that the Vyhrragians wouldn't know.  Then it hit him.  "I'm here with Luke Skywalker."

At that revelation she sprang to her feet and moved toward the door, grinning broadly in delight.  "You're here with my brother?  You're braver than I thought!"  

He was dumbfounded and suspected it was written all over his face.  First of all, why would being with Skywalker make him braver?  And second, "He's your brother?" 

Leia smirked.  "Yes.  He's my brother."  

By now she was standing directly in front of him, her path out of the cell blocked by his body.  He was tall and handsome, with short brown hair and well-toned muscles.  She had never seen him before – although after these long days of extreme strain and weariness she couldn't really be sure.  Up close she recognized as legitimate his black covert-operations Navy fatigues, and she found the confidence in his bearing and warmth in his eyes immensely heartening.  She focused beyond his superficial, bewildered gawking and discovered poise, brashness, authority, mischief, loyalty, autonomy, and most of all sincerity.  For some inexplicable, unknowable reason she trusted him.  Already.  

Han remained silent in an utterly dazed shock.  _He's her brother.  Then why is her name Organa?  Oh, no!  I thought they were lovers!  I hope I didn't say anything to anyone from their family…  Or to Jade…  Oh boy.  Great job, buddy.  Great job._  

She was becoming more impatient every second.  "If it's all the same to you, Captain, I'll be happy to explain the details of my family tree later."  

He had lost his composure entirely.  So much so that he had forgotten what her station was.  

"Look, Princess," he guessed wildly, knowing full well it was wrong, "I risked my life to come here and rescue you.  You could be a little nicer."  Then he decided not to push his luck and stepped back out through the open door, leading her into the dim hallway.  

---

Obi-Wan Kenobi found the hangar with ease.  A few hundred yards from the detention building where the youngsters were retrieving Leia, the massive structure was difficult to miss.  His footfalls muffled by the Force, he slowly approached the guard shack at the only gate to the high fencing surrounding the building.  

Inches away from the thin wall of the shack and just beneath the soft yellow glow emanating from the window he pulled his dark brown cloak around him.  Listening to the conversation inside and probing with the Force he determined there were only two brownshirts on duty.  

"What do you think those alarms are all about?" one guard was asking.  

"Ah, who knows," the other complained.  "Probably someone forgot to key in the access code correctly and set off everything.  Or another stupid drill." 

"Yeah, you're probably right," the first one decided.  "So, what's the deal with you and that girl from section 151?" 

Not particularly interested in the answer, Obi-Wan flicked his hand and projected a loud clattering noise a short distance away.  From beneath the cowl of his cloak he allowed himself a little smirk between his short white moustache and beard.  

"What was that?"  

"I don't know.  We'd better go check it out."  

Blaster rifles ready, the two brownshirts emerged from their shack and started in the direction of the noise.  Intent on finding its source, they did not notice the whispering brush of sound as a brown blur glided past behind them.  

The inside of the hangar was brightly lit and it took Obi-Wan's eyes a second to adjust.  Then he glided forward again, sticking close to the walls and using the Force to stay on alert for any more brownshirts.  

It took only a minute to find the docking bay he was seeking.  When he determined there was no one present, he stepped into the large room to find the _Marigold_ resting on its landing gear.  Once the Republic's spies had confirmed that the Vyhrragians had not destroyed it, the decision had been made immediately that the best option was for the Republic to do so.  Otherwise it would be too easy for the Vyhrragians to modify the ship and use it to infiltrate Republic areas by posing as an authorized Naboo vessel.  

Obi-Wan moved quickly to the side of the schooner.  With a quiet snap-hiss his turquoise lightsaber ignited.  He plunged the blade straight into the shiny chrome exterior of the starship, burning a small hole in the hull.  Gradually he moved the humming blade up and down, left and right, until the superheated metal dripped away and formed a hole about two fists across.  

He deactivated the blade and clipped it back to his belt.  After a short wait to allow the metal cool off and lose its bright orange glow, he pulled a small orb from his belt and triggered the timer with his thumb.  With a soft toss he sent the thermal detonator through the smooth-edged round breach.  

Calmly and deliberately he walked away from the _Marigold_.  He had plenty of time and there was no reason to rush.  Keeping his perceptions at their highest levels of readiness he departed along the route he had arrived.  

By this time the two brownshirts were back in their guard shack, involved in a rambling discussion about the girl in question.  It took no effort at all to slip past them into the night.  

From across the dark, deserted street Obi-Wan turned back.  Just as the mental countdown in his head expired, brilliant waves of fire and rolling concussions of deafening sound from the exploding thermal detonator erupted from the side of the building.  Stones and flames and shards of metal flew in all directions.  

Disappearing into the overwhelming shadows, he headed back towards the detention building to wait for his Padawan's signal. 

---

The battle in the cellblock's entrance room had begun.  Chewie and Lando were crouched behind the console, firing out the doorway at approaching brownshirts.  Mara stood upright with them, deflecting incoming blaster bolts back at their attackers with rapid, aggressive swings of her purple lightsaber.  Luke was at the portal to the hallway to the cells, preventing blaster fire from coming down the passage.  

When he saw Han and Leia emerge from the cell, Luke closed his eyes and concentrated.  He willed a message into the Force to his father and his Master.  The first objective was completed.  Next was the difficult part: actually escaping.  Luke snapped away two more blaster bolts as the pair arrived at the opening with him.  

More brownshirts turned the corner and tried to advance into the room.  Leia only laughed.  "This is some rescue!" 

Both blaster pistols in his hands again, Han squeezed off a shot at an open target before he tipped his head toward Luke.  "He's the brains, sweetheart." 

Leia flashed an angry stare at her twin brother.  "Did you have a plan for getting out?"  

"Yes," Luke insisted.  "The diversions were supposed to keep them occupied for longer."  

"What's your backup plan?"  

"Um, see, that's the problem.  There is no backup plan."  

"Then at least get me one of those rifles," Leia ordered, not the least bit surprised by the news.  

Han was beginning to understand her comment to him back in the cell.  

With a flick of Luke's left hand a blaster rifle previously belonging to one of the dead brownshirts launched toward them in a graceful arc.  Leia snatched it out of the air and immediately took several very satisfying shots at their encroaching opponents.  

Luke yanked the comlink from his belt with his left hand, the blue blade dancing in front of him in his right.  "Artoo!  Artoo!  Is there any other way out?"  

After a few seconds a series of beeps and whistles replied.  

"Back down the hallway is a chute.  It leads to the trash compactor.  From there we can…"  

"No way," Leia interrupted vehemently.  "I am _not_ going down the trash chute.  No." 

"Hey, Your Worship, I agree with you completely, but the kid's right," Han said between shots at the brownshirts.  "What other choice do we have?"  

Leia shook her head vigorously.  "I've got two Jedi, three…  What?  Three Navy officers?"  While she waited for Han's nod, she let loose another barrage of bolts from her blaster rifle.  "Two Jedi, three Navy officers, and me.  And you're saying we can't get out except through the trash chute?  You've got to be kidding."  

Before they could say anything she yelled over the din of the blaster fire the short distance to the console.  "Mara, how many are there?"  

Mara smirked, quite pleased Leia blatantly had ignored Luke with the query.  A quick scan in the Force gave her the answer.  "About fifty," she hollered back.  "Give or take."  

Leia looked at Luke again.  "We can handle that, right?  With you and Mara in the lead?"  

Luke's face had molded into a mask of sheer determination.  His voice was calm and controlled when he responded a few seconds later.  

"It won't be a problem."  It was not bravado.  It was pure Jedi confidence.  

Luke surged forward while deflecting blaster bolts, bringing Han and Leia on his heels.  When they joined Lando and Chewie in ducking behind the console, Luke and Mara simultaneously leaped over it, lightsaber blades flashing above their heads.  By the time they landed the brownshirts at the door already were retreating.  

---

Obi-Wan walked slowly along the outside of the detention building.  Staying hidden in the shadows he continually scanned his surroundings for enemy agents.  None were presenting themselves to him.  

Finally he reached the broad stone plaza at the rear of the facility.  It was here that prisoner transports loaded and unloaded their captives – and where Anakin soon would meet them in the _Lady Vader_ to fly them to safety.  Like the rest of the city the lights in the plaza were off and it was nearly impossible to see even a few dozen yards away to its far side.  

He stopped at the plaza's edge and dropped his mind into the Force.  Its usually placid eddies and currents were roiling and churning with kinetic energy.  As he had expected, Luke and Mara had been required by circumstances to fight their way out.  With a burst of additional concentration Obi-Wan determined that Leia had been liberated successfully from her cell and that Solo, Calrissian, and Chewbacca were holding their own in the combat.  

And there was a great disturbance in the Force.  

He could not compel a confrontation, however.  His fate would come to him.  So he glanced around the plaza until, at the corner of a short storehouse further along the edge, he saw a suitable alcove in which to hide and wait.  

Obi-Wan pulled his cloak around him again and started toward his destination.  Before he reached it, however, a grim figure stepped in front of him to block his path.  He barely could make out the shape until a snap-hiss broke the quiet night air and a shimmering red lightsaber appeared, shattering the darkness with its piercing brilliance.  

Memories of Naboo flooded back to him as he watched the dark figure, illuminated only by the light of the blade, unlatch the clasp of its cloak and let it fall to the ground.  The same way the Sith Lord had in the Theed Palace hangar all those years ago.  

Obi-Wan reached up and brushed off his own cloak.  By the time it billowed to the ground, his blue lightsaber was ignited and held in front of him in a defensive position.  

She was a human woman with blonde hair past her shoulders.  She was young – probably younger than his Padawan.  She wore a black tunic and pants with black boots and gloves.  Taking her weapon in two hands she finally spoke.  

"Master Kenobi," she smiled maliciously, "at last we meet."  Her voice was calm and cool, yet oddly pleasant and soothing in its tone.  "Many years we have waited for this chance at retribution." 

Obi-Wan did not say a word.  He simply stood his ground and let the Sith bring the duel to him.  Quickly she charged forward, lightsaber flashing toward him in precise yet powerful strikes.  She was skilled.  Very skilled.  But it was nothing he could not defend fairly easily for the time being.  

Until she launched a vicious series of two-handed swings unlike any he had ever seen.  Obi-Wan parried them away and shifted his technique, adapting on the fly to the unusual style.  Perhaps this would be more difficult than he had anticipated.  

The Sith increased the pace of her attacks yet again, threatening to overwhelm his expert defenses.  "Your powers are weak, old man," she sneered, swinging a blow straight for his neck.  


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

Luke and Mara charged out the open entryway of cellblock AA23, lightsabers striking down brownshirts as they went.  Jumping smoothly over the low pile of corpses in the portal, they moved against the soldiers in the hallway.  

_We need to work together on this, Luke_, she sniped.  

_Then follow me_, he shot back.  He tumbled gracefully along the floor, rolling past the legs of the armored enemies and springing up again in their midst.  His turquoise blade slashed high and low at his startled opponents.  

_Oh, don't you wish!_  With massive strides she surged toward his position, each swing of her violet weapon cutting savage swaths through the brownshirts' ranks.  

The exit now cleared, the other four rose from behind the console and ran to join the pair of Jedi.  Leia authoritatively cut in front of Han to be the first one out.  As he burst after her he flashed an amazed glance at Lando, who shrugged in equal astonishment.  Chewie let loose a rumbling Wookiee growl that caused a noticeable wave of alarm to shiver through the brownshirts.  

Luke sensed the quartet arrive behind him and retreated two steps.  He shifted his technique from attack to defense, blocking as many blaster bolts as he could.  

Mara tried to do the same, but without his assistance it was difficult to defend in tandem.  

The blaster rifle clenched firmly in her hands, Leia advanced deliberately.  At least ten of the brownshirts already were down, and almost every shot of hers finished off another.  

Han thought perhaps he was enjoying this a bit too much.  His arms extended out in front of him, his twin blaster pistols wreaked havoc.  From his flanks Lando and Chewie were dropping opponents with relative ease as well.  

Then Mara sensed an enemy blaster bolt sail past and barely miss Leia's head.  _Luke, if we don't cooperate someone's going to get killed._  

_Fine_, he snapped viciously.  _But I'm only doing this for her.  Got it?_  

She felt him release the barriers in his mind at the same time she relinquished hers.  The Force began to flow between them without disruption.  Now they could sense each other's intentions and draw upon each other's perceptions in the Force.  

In an instant their blades wove a tapestry of blinding light in front of them.  Like the intricate cogs and gears of the most advanced droids, their shimmering lightsabers interacted with perfect precision to create an impenetrable shield against the brownshirts' incoming fire.  

Leia had never seen anything like it before.  But she refused to let it distract her from pouring a continuous stream of laser blasts into the remaining soldiers.  

For a second Han wondered if his shots could make it out if the enemy's could not make it in.  To his amazement, the Jedi's glimmering wall of light was completely porous for his bolts.  So he continued the unrelenting barrage.  

It did not take much longer for the surviving brownshirts to conclude that the situation was hopeless.  Only about twenty remained.  As one they turned and fled, not even bothering to lay down cover fire or protect their exposed backs.  

As soon as the incoming fire ended, Mara and Luke stopped the movement of their blades and held the weapons at their sides.  

"Cease fire," Luke called out.  

"Let them go," Mara added quickly.  

Han nodded to Lando and Chewie and lowered his weapons.  Although he would have liked to chase down the brownshirts and teach them a lesson, he was well aware of the Jedi philosophy that one should kill only when necessary and only in defense.  And now was not really the time for a metaphysical argument about combat tactics.  

Leia was considerably more reluctant to comply.  She could not bring herself to shoot fleeing men in the back, even as much as she hated them for their role in her captivity.  But she burned off some of her anger by shooting at the floor just behind their heels and spots on the walls just after they passed them.  When the last one disappeared from view, she shouted at them for good measure.  "And don't come back!" 

No one said a word to her about it.  

"Which way now?" Han asked.  

"Turbolift is no good," Mara decided aloud.  

"Too easy for it to be shut off with us inside," Luke agreed.  

The two Jedi looked at each other for a moment before they realized that the link in the Force had pulled their minds to think along the same line – and the instant they figured it out they cut the link off.  

Leia broke the brief silence.  "Which way to the stairs, then?"

"This way," Luke pointed with the tip of his lightsaber.  "I think."  

Han chuckled as the six of them began to jog down the hallway.  "I hope you know what you're doing, kid."

---

A few minutes later they had made considerable progress toward their destination when they rounded a corner to see a massed formation of brownshirts cutting them off.  

"Didn't we just leave this party?" Han laughed.  

Chewbacca wrawled indignantly; clearly he did not see the humor in the situation.  

Luke and Mara deflected away most of the incoming shots, but it was readily apparent that retreat was the only option.  

"Back this way!  Quickly!" Lando urged.  

Without hesitation the others followed him.  

After a few more rapid turns around corners they soon found themselves at a dead-end crossroads with another hallway.  

"Which way?" Leia demanded again.  

"Left-Right," Luke and Mara answered simultaneously.  

The glare between the two Padawans could have frozen a wampa.  

"When in doubt, always go right," Lando suggested quickly.  

Leia was confused.  "Why's that?" 

"No reason," he chuckled.  "It's just a rule we devised a few years ago.  Faster than flipping a coin." 

Leia did not find the idea the least bit insightful.  "You guys are idiots."

"Hey, Princess," Han interjected to defend his friend, "I don't hear you suggesting anything better." 

"Lay off her, Solo," Luke spat.  

"I can take care of myself," Leia snapped, her face directing a blistering stare at her twin that caused him to flinch.  She turned to face Han, her eyes still fiery.  "Maybe not.  But I still think you're an idiot."  

With that she abruptly turned her back on him and consulted with Luke and Mara.  

Shut out of the decision, Han looked to Lando and Chewie.  "Wonderful girl!  Either I'm going to kill her or I'm beginning to like her."  

Before he received a response or a decision could be reasoned out, blaster bolts slammed into the wall next to Han and Lando and another wave of brownshirts came around the corner they had passed moments earlier.  

Reacting instantly, Luke ran left and Mara ran right.  With looks of utter disbelief on their faces, the others shook their heads.  Leia took off after Mara while the three men followed Luke.  

---

The two young women ran full speed down more plain gray hallways in the detention building.  Really they had no idea if they were heading in the correct direction or not.  

"Luke is going to pay for this," Mara growled.  "I can't believe he left us."

"Don't let it get to you," Leia chuckled through her ragged breaths.  "He's stubborn as an eopie."

"I know.  It drives me mad."

"He gets it from our father.  I'd think you'd be plenty used to that by now!"  

Mara's grimace brightened.  "I suppose I should be, huh?" 

With a quick turn on her heel Mara let Leia burst past her.  Her violet blade cut three swift arcs in the air and repelled blaster bolts straight back into the three brownshirts who had closed distance on them.  She permitted herself a satisfied smirk before she spun around again to chase after her friend.  

A few strides later Mara yelled out a warning.  "Careful!"

Leia slid to a precarious stop at the edge of a retracted drawbridge over a wide and very, very deep ventilation chasm in the middle of the building.  Mara rushed up beside her and looked out in disappointment at the situation.  

Before they had any further time to ponder their predicament, more blaster fire flew at them from behind.  Leia tapped buttons on the wall control pad and the blast door slammed down.  To prevent their pursuers from opening it from the other side, she fired a shot with her rifle that exploded the electronics in a blast of sparks and bits of molten metal.  

"Extend the bridge," Mara suggested.  

"Oh, yeah.  That.  I think I just blasted it," Leia admitted, chagrined.  

From a bridge doorway a few levels higher, a pair of brownshirts began to shoot at them.  

"I'm on it," Leia said immediately.  She braced the stock of the rifle against her shoulder and aimed high.  Holding the trigger down strongly, she let the autofire mechanism kick in and sent a torrent of blaster bolts at their attackers.  In no time at all two bodies tumbled from the platform.  

She turned to see Mara withdrawing the thin rappelling cord from her utility belt.  Leia glanced across the chasm to the open doorway several dozen yards opposite them.  

"Can't we just jump?" she asked in surprise.  

"What?"

"If you were alone you'd jump this, right?"  

"Yes."  

"So jump with me."  

Mara stared into her eyes.  "Are you sure?" 

"Of course."  Leia held the gaze intensely.  "I mean, unless you don't think you can do it.  I learned that the hard way with Luke a while back.  If you don't believe you can do it, you fail."  

"No.  I can do it, no question," Mara insisted.  "I just didn't think you'd want to."  

"Whatever gets us out of here fastest is what I want."  

"Okay.  Let's do this."  Mara flicked the cord back into her belt and clipped on her lightsaber.  With both arms she grabbed Leia around the waist.  

Leia slung the rifle's strap diagonally across her chest and wrapped her arms snugly around Mara's shoulders.  Without really thinking she gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.  When she received a puzzled glance in return, she giggled.  "For luck."

"Hold on," Mara smiled.  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dipped her knees into a crouch.  Pulling the Force into her body, she concentrated deeply.  

Then she launched them from the platform.  

---

The men came running around a corner, retreating from yet another squad of brownshirts.  Han and Lando continued to send streams of bolts from the blaster pistols in both hands.  Their black fatigues, such superb camouflage in the dark night outside, stood out starkly against the light gray walls and floor.  Between them Chewie fired his bowcaster at the open targets they missed.  

After these long, intense minutes of start-and-stop combat, Han was beginning to find the fighting far less thrilling.  In fact, he was quite ready to get out of here.  A quick glance at Lando and Chewie showed they clearly agreed with that sentiment.  

A few seconds later Luke rounded the corner too.  His blue blade swept gracefully in circles and ellipses in front of him, deflecting incoming fire into the walls, ceiling, and floor.  He had decided he probably had acted rashly in cutting his connection to Mara and then leaving her and Leia behind.  After a burst of Force-assisted speed caught him up to the Navy officers, he opened his mind again and searched for Mara.  

She was drawing heavily on the Force too, so it took only a second to sense her.  He felt her latch onto his presence as he attached to hers.  While their conscious thoughts focused on their respective opponents, their subconscious minds went to work figuring out how to reunite the separated groups.  

Luke's anxiety abated considerably.  And something else occurred to him.  For much of his life, he had considered Mara to be his constant adversary, his inimitable opponent, his nemesis, his enemy.  This experience here on Xixus had shown him the truth.  She might be a rival as much as a friend, but she most definitely was not an enemy.  They were on the same side, allies in a desperate flight from this prison filled with brownshirts.  For the first time he truly understood who the real enemy was, and it was not she.  It troubled him to realize that he should have appreciated this long ago.  

And then he felt a warm surge in his mind, revealing that in their linked state she simultaneously and independently had come to the identical conclusions.  

Two more turns later and still making a fighting retreat, Luke smiled to see Mara and Leia join them from a side hallway.  He flashed his twin sister a broad grin of apology, which she accepted with a gracious nod.  

His eyes found Mara's and they shared a very brief but profoundly meaningful gaze.  

_I'm sorry about earlier_, he told her sincerely.  

_Me too_, she replied with equal sincerity.  _But let's talk later._  To that he agreed with a wink.  Wordlessly they pledged to fight in tandem for the rest of the escape.  

While the Jedi were silent, Han grinned mischievously as he sidled up to Leia.  "What kept you?"

"We ran into some old friends," she played along.

Han winked and tipped his head at Luke and Mara.  "Well, I think maybe if we can just avoid any more Jedi advice, we ought to be able to get out of here."  

Luke was about to bark a bitter rejoinder when Han's jibe triggered something in his mind.  "Of course!"  He plucked the comlink from his belt.  "Artoo!  Are you there?"

He was greeted instantly with a happy burst of beeps and bloops.  

"Do you still have the security cameras?"  An affirmative whistle.  "Great!  Get us out of here!"  Within a heartbeat a stream of squawks, toodles, and whistles issued from the comlink.  

Leia had not learned to understand astromech.  "Well?"  

"Follow me.  We're almost there already!"  

---****

"We're out!" Han exulted.  

With Leia, Lando, and Chewie on his heels he burst through an open doorway into a broad stone plaza.  Although it still was late at night, the outdoor security lights had been turned on and illuminated the area with a brightness not too different from daytime.  

"And Daddy's here!" Leia cheered in jubilation.  

Several dozen yards away at the far end of the plaza the _Lady Vader_ was easing into a repulsor-hover about ten feet off the ground.  Its engines remained engaged, so rather than the usual rear boarding ramp a small hatch opened on the underside of the large wedge-shaped starship and a ladder began to descend.  

From the plaza's left side Artoo wheeled toward the starship at top speed.  

While the four of them ran forward as fast as they could, Han noted with great relief that no one was shooting at them.  It seemed curious but he didn't really care why.  He grinned and looked at Leia.  "Not a bad bit of rescuing, huh?  You know, sometimes I amaze even myself." 

She laughed.  "That doesn't sound too hard."  

---

Luke and Mara charged through the doorway a few moments later, unceasingly deflecting blaster bolts from pursuing brownshirts.  Mara flicked her hand and yanked with the Force to slam the blast door down behind them, causing the control panel to smolder and spark in flames.  That probably would buy them enough time.  

They ran to follow the group ahead of them when they both heard the distinctive sound.  It could only be one thing: a lightsaber duel.  Their minds still were linked for combat and simultaneously they looked to the right.  

A short distance away Obi-Wan was defending vigorously against a young, blonde-haired woman dressed in black and fighting with a brilliantly red lightsaber.  He was struggling more than they ever had seen him.  

They understood the situation immediately.  They had not sensed the Sith because she was powering herself with the dark side.  And to be sure they did not sense what was going on and become distracted, Obi-Wan had suppressed not only the effects of his use of his powers but also the disruptions and tremors in the Force from the duel itself.  The Padawans' mission was more important than his life.  

Before Mara could react she sensed a surge of fear blast out from Luke.  In an instant he ran toward the duel at top speed, powering his feet with the Force.  In vain she reached out with her free hand to stop him.  

"No, Luke, no!" she cried.  

If he heard he did not acknowledge it.  

For a split-second Mara wondered what she should do.  Then she realized that even if Luke refused to do his duty, she must do hers.  

She broke into a run.  

---

When he reached the boarding ladder first, Han turned back and waved the others ahead while he scanned the plaza for any enemies.  He saw no brownshirts.  His jaw dropped, however, when he saw the lightsaber duel and then the speed of Luke's rush toward it.  And he knew there was nothing he possibly could do to assist.  

Lando already was up.  Chewie wroofed a query to Han.  

"Climb, furball!" he ordered without turning around.  

With his considerable height the Wookiee bounded up the ladder in a blur.  

Leia had followed Han's gaze and her face had become utterly pale.  Now her twin brother had joined the duel between Obi-Wan and the Sith.  It was by far the greatest possibility of him being killed that Leia ever had considered or even known about, much less seen with her own eyes.  Her blaster rifle slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground.  

"Your turn, Princess," Han insisted firmly.  "Time to go."  

She ignored him.  

He was about to physically shake her to her senses when Mara arrived.  

"Leia, we have to go," Mara declared emphatically without augmenting her voice in the Force.  

"But…  Luke…"  Leia's regal demeanor had vanished.  

"He can't protect you unless you get on board," Mara said quietly.  "You need to do it for him."  

That message got through.  "Okay," Leia whispered, wiping her eyes before she turned around and began to climb.  

When her friend disappeared inside the starship, Mara looked down at Artoo.  "Ready, buddy?"  She received a reluctant but affirmative bloop as he rolled into position.  "Jump!" she joked as she flicked her wrist and launched the astromech straight up into the hold.  

Han pulled his eyes away from the duel to meet hers, his voice shaken and hushed.  "Don't you… I mean… have to help?"  

Mara shook her head sadly, then motioned for him to climb the ladder.  

---

Luke had trained with his Master to fight in unison against a single opponent, yet as always was the case the reality of it was far different than the practice.  The Sith did not look any older than he, but she was incredibly skilled with her blade.  Maybe even better than Mara.  

That was a very disturbing prospect indeed.  

Obi-Wan was striking when he could, but mostly he was defending against the Sith's unfamiliar techniques.  Luke attempted to take advantage and be more aggressive in his approach.  He tried every strategy or series of swings that might pierce the Sith's defenses.  

Nothing worked.  

In the Force Luke could sense the titanic currents of energy coursing through the Sith.  His Master was tiring and he already had expended considerable energy during their long escape from the depths of the detention building.  She, on the other hand, seemed only to be growing more and more powerful by the second.  

Deep inside his soul Luke felt his anger beginning to burn.  He wanted this duel over.  

Now.  

---

When Mara pulled herself up into the narrow cabin hallway of the _Lady Vader_ she heard her Master's voice in her mind.  

_How is she?_  

_Well, she took over the moment we got her._

The response was simply a very relieved – and amused – father.  _Then she's fine._  After a heartbeat the serious Jedi Master returned.  _Send Captain Solo up here.  Get everyone else secured._

_Yes, Master._

In the converted lounge Lando and Chewie already had pulled on their restraints in their seats.  Mara quickly whispered in Han's ear before she gently led Leia to the front pair of seats, where they could strap in next to each other.  Then Mara took Leia's hands in her own and squeezed them tightly.  

Han tried not to be nervous when he arrived in the cockpit.  Master Skywalker was seated in the pilot's chair with his back to Han, focused intently on the lightsaber duel visible out the front viewport.  Dressed in a tight maroon Jedi flight suit, he was hunched forward ever so slightly, his gloved fingers grinding into the short gray hair on the back of his head.  Han stopped in the open portal, unsure whether to proceed inside.  

"I will be forever grateful for what you have done today, Captain Solo," the Jedi Master said calmly without turning around.  "But we're not out of this yet."  He paused momentarily, leaning forward just a bit more.  "Take the port chair."

"Yes, sir," Han replied without hesitation, practically leaping into the designated co-pilot's seat.  He quickly had scoped out the cockpit and concluded that this might very well be the most advanced combat starship ever built.  And that interested him immensely.  

"I need you to set all of the sensors to maximum," the distracted Master continued, "so we'll know what we're facing on the way out.  Dial down the signal jammers as far as you need.  They know we're here.  I doubt we can fool them much longer anyway." 

"Consider it done."  

---

Luke's impatience was building.  His feelings were perilously close to becoming a distraction.  

He couldn't understand what they were doing wrong.  The Sith continued not only to hold off all of their attacks but also to launch very dangerous offensives of her own.  Only the need to parry a swift stabbing assault from Luke had prevented her from skewering Obi-Wan a few seconds earlier.  And the woman's power continued to grow even as exhaustion beset the pair of Jedi.  

It was impossible.  

He tried to take the offensive again only to find himself parrying frantically against a vicious barrage of strikes aimed directly for his head.  

Even with the Sith engaged in that maneuver, she still managed to evade Obi-Wan's counter-offensive.  

This could not be happening.  

---

Anakin's eyes faced the duel, but really they contributed nothing to his analysis.  He followed every arc, swipe, parry, and block in the Force.  

Two Jedi against one Sith, and it was a stalemate.  Not good.  For a moment it seemed Luke might land a spearing blow, but the woman slid away effortlessly.  The melee continued unabated.  

It was a grueling, sadistic dance of death.  

"The sensors, Captain?"

"Fighters being scrambled from several locations in the city, sir.  A dozen at least."  

And more every minute, Anakin knew.  

There were six lives aboard the _Lady Vader_, including the erstwhile prisoner they had come to rescue.  Only two, a Master and his Padawan, were at stake in the combat yards away.  

Every second they waited made their departure more difficult.  He dreaded the thought of leaving his oldest, dearest Jedi friend and his son behind.  But soon the calculus would give him no choice.  

He could not sacrifice the others – even at that unbearable cost.  

Anakin closed his eyes, clutched his hands to the top of his head, and concentrated more deeply and fiercely than he had in many, many years.  

---

Luke's arms felt like rubber.  His turquoise blade moved in slow motion.  His feet slogged as if through mud.  Every heartbeat he became weaker.  

Obi-Wan was flowing in the Force and defending himself well enough, but he had run through all the possible offensive techniques he could think of and none of them had worked.  

The Sith finally seemed to be slowing too, and yet she continued to control the tempo and flow of the duel against her two Jedi opponents.  

It was only a matter of time, Darth Savager knew, before the starship would have to leave and she would stand triumphantly over a pair of corpses.  

Luke tried another series of attacks at the Sith, but as before she parried them away.  

Suddenly he heard his father's voice in his mind.  

_Swing down, Luke!_

There was nothing to do but react.  Heeding the words he swung low blindly, letting the Force guide his arms toward what his eyes could not see.  

A terrible, awful, horrific sound filled his ears and an agonizingly painful wave of life energy screeched into the Force.  

Instantly he was aware that the duel was over.  His eyes came into focus again to see he and Obi-Wan standing over the young woman's dead body, bisected crisply at the waist.  

Without speaking, master and apprentice deactivated their weapons and ran toward the waiting starship.  Without turning his head around or breaking stride, Obi-Wan reached his left hand behind his back and used the Force to call the dead Sith's lightsaber handle into his palm.  

--- 

The ladder retracted behind them and the hatch closed.  Obi-Wan reached out and put a hand on Luke's shoulder.  Their gaze was filled with relief and resolve.  

Luke knew a lecture would be forthcoming about his recklessness.  Later.  

They stepped toward the lounge door when Luke heard his father's voice again.  

_Quickly.__  I need you._  

Obi-Wan nodded and glided out of the hallway.  

Luke nearly fell into the cockpit when the _Lady Vader_ swerved sharply into the black nighttime sky and its engines engaged.  He took the open starboard co-pilot's seat and strapped in tightly.  

"Take the lateral cannons," his father directed.  Anakin's hands were on the controls, tearing the starship over the dark city at a ridiculously unsafe speed.  

Luke rested his fingers on the console and found the firing buttons for the four sets of directional guns he had been given.  Apparently his father wanted to keep the rear-aimed cannons and all of the forward-facing weapons for himself.  

"Captain?"

"Two dozen bogies, sir."  

Anakin chuckled.  "That many will make it interesting."

---****

Anakin activated the pilot's forward display.  The enemy starfighters still were far enough away that he could not track them easily in the Force to plan his strategy.  The brightly colored holographic image showed three groups of pursuers closing in.  For no particular reason he selected the one to port as the first engagement.  

"Sensors on full, Master Jedi," Han reported.  

"Excellent.  Take the shields, Captain."  

"Yes, sir."  

Anakin brought the _Lady Vader_ around and launched the drives to full atmospheric speed.  The other two squadrons of enemies receded on the display as he charged the third.  

Within seconds a formation of six Vyhrragian craft appeared against the utterly black nighttime sky.  They were small white starfighters consisting of a ball-shaped cockpit with a large flat solar panel to each side.  Their laser cannons opened fire at the _Lady Vader_ even while they were well out of range.  

Anakin flicked the thumb switches on his two-handed control stick.  He smiled when Solo directed shield power to the fore in preparation for the initial encounter.  The man clearly was an expert at space combat.  

The _Lady Vader_'s weapons had a considerably longer range than its opponents'.  The same instant the targeting computers beeped Anakin squeezed his triggers and fired with all six forward-facing laser cannons at once.  The front viewport lit up with the massive explosions of the enemy ships.  

"All too easy," Anakin chuckled.  "Argis' budget couldn't pay for starfighters with shields, apparently."  He looked briefly over his shoulder to see Solo's jaw hanging open.  "Captain, I haven't seen this kind of fighter before.  What are they?"  

Han regained focus from his total amazement at the _Lady Vader_'s capabilities.  "They're a new model from Sienar Fleet Systems," he explained.  "They're called TIEs – twin ion engines.  Highly maneuverable, short-range snub fighters with heavy cannons.  Good basic ships for a fleet.  Or for piracy.  They'd give an X-Wing some trouble, that's for sure."  

"Interesting," Anakin nodded, already looking out the viewport again while he steered the _Lady Vader_ into a steep climb.  

Secured to his station in the rear of the cockpit and his interface arm spinning rapidly, Jaytoo blooped and toodled indignantly.  Wiping out the first batch of TIEs had taken them off course for the rendezvous point with the cover team above Xixus, and now Anakin was going to have hurry to make it before the remaining TIEs cut him off.  He flipped a switch to override the default atmospheric restrictions on the drives and ignored the wailing alarms about the hazardous speed.  

"Why would Sienar sell to Argis?" Luke asked quietly from the starboard-side co-pilot's chair.  "Don't they have any social responsibility at all?"  

Han chuckled.  "Their only responsibility is to their shareholders.  Profit is all that counts.  And Argis is buying.  Massive quantities at that."

"So even if they're aiding and abetting a major war, they don't care as long as they make money?" 

"Not everybody shares the Jedi Order's concern for life, kid.  Peace is bad for business when you're in the business of making weapons."  

"And don't forget, Luke," Anakin pointed out without turning around, "the Senate has not yet declared war or even invoked the Trading With the Enemy Act.  Sienar may be acting unethically, but they're completely within the bounds of the law.  Until the Senate puts a stop to it, anyway."  

Luke shook his head.  "Well, I still think it's disgusting."  

"Stay sharp!  Here we go," Anakin cut off the conversation.  They were close enough now to the enemy fighters that he deactivated the forward display and dropped his mind fully into the Force.  Jaytoo whistled excitedly in anticipation.  

The _Lady Vader_ burst out of the atmosphere with laser blasts from the TIEs crashing into its rear shields.  

The three men reacted in great surprise when they looked out the front viewport.  Blazing toward them at full speed, lasers cannons firing a barrage at the TIEs, were four X-Wings. 

The plan had called for only two, the maroon-and-white Jedi X-Wings being flown by Danaé and Sarré.  

Yet there also was a pair of standard orange-and-white Navy X-Wings.  

"What?  Who's that?" Han wondered to Luke, who could only shrug.  They didn't have to wait long for the answers.  

Anakin had set the comlink to broadcast in the cockpit because he preferred to fly without a headset or helmet.  

"You're late," Danaé's voice teased as the X-Wings sailed by overhead.  

Anakin did not respond to his daughter but instead spoke sharply to the person whose presence he had sensed instantly in the Force.  "What are you doing here?"  

"Getting my daughter back," snapped Padmé's voice.  

Now Anakin really wished he'd worn a headset after all.  Captain Solo and Luke did not need to hear this conversation.  "I've already taken care of that."  

"Really?  Looks to me like you could use some help."  

Anakin's Force perceptions told him that the X-Wings, which now were looping back for a second pass, already had destroyed four of the eighteen pursuing TIEs.  He pulled the _Lady Vader_ into a tight loop to come around on a pair of TIEs; he could sense that the Vyhrragian pilots did not think he was capable of that maneuver.  He also was pleased to discover that Captain Solo was continually adjusting the shields perfectly, having no difficulty at all keeping pace with his aggressive flying.

"This is too dangerous," he chastised her.  "You shouldn't be here." 

"_Excuse_ me?  Do I have to go through the list again with you?"  

"That is _not_ the point right now!"  

"Isn't it?  Battle of Naboo.  Senate plaza on Coruscant.  Leaving Coruscant in the _Blue Hawk_.  Battle of Geonosis.  And that's _before_ we were married.  Then there was…"  

"Fine.  You win."  

"I win what?"  

Anakin sighed deeply as he squeezed the triggers and blasted the two TIEs into oblivion.  "You win the right to get yourself killed if you want to.  I won't exclude you again."  

"Thanks."  Padmé paused long enough to destroy another TIE.  "Liar.  Yes, you will."

"That's why you love me."  

"True."  

---

In their jumpseats in the converted lounge Leia and Mara released hands to try to regain their balance from being thrown side to side repeatedly as the _Lady Vader_ made its fighting escape from Xixus.  

Mara laughed as she grabbed at sides of the seat bottom for leverage.  "Your father is completely incapable of flying with the inertial compensator at a hundred percent, isn't he?"  

"I'm afraid so," Leia frowned with false sternness.  "He has no regard for passengers or co-pilots.  He loves the feel of the g-forces too much."  

Mara held down her lurching stomach through another wrenching arc.  "It wouldn't be so bad if he weren't such an excellent pilot."  

"Ow!" gasped Leia as her chest slammed into the harnesses.  "That's true.  You know, I simply can't wait to take a shower.  I feel so wretched right now."  

"Soon, I'm sure," Mara nodded.  "I brought along your favorite jumpsuit, actually.  It's in one of the bins in the bunks."

"Thank you so much!"  For a moment the swerving slowed.  "I know it never would have occurred to the guys to bring me something else to wear," she chuckled.  

"That's why I'm looking out for you."

"By the way," Leia asked quietly so the others behind them couldn't hear, "where did you find this Captain Solo?  He's a pretty crazy guy, from what I can tell."  

"He responded to the Navy's emergency bulletin from the _Invictus_.  He and his buddies called off their vacation to assist in your rescue."

"Are you serious?"

"I sure am."  

"He really is crazy."  

"Yeah," Mara smiled wickedly, "but have you _seen_ him?"

Leia's eyes brightened and she grinned mischievously too.  "Oh, I _know_.  Did you…"  She was cut off by having to concentrate on holding herself down in the seat. 

"Nope," Mara winked.  "He seems nice, but he's not really my type."

"Not a Jedi, you mean?"  

"Something like that," Mara laughed.  "He's all yours."

"That's very generous of you," Leia laughed along.  _I suppose I could think about it…_

---

When his father flew the _Lady Vader_ directly between them, Luke used the port- and starboard-aiming laser cannons to finish off the final two TIEs.  

"More on their way, sir," Han stated calmly.  "We'd better get out of here."  

"I agree, Captain," Anakin nodded.  "Nice shooting, everybody," he cheered into the comlink.  "Time to go.  On my mark."  He waited until Jaytoo beeped that he had confirmation for all five ships.  

"Now."  

The four X-Wings shot away first, zipping from view in unison.  

Jenny took a deep breath.  She was surprised at her calm during the battle, considering how long it had been since she had flown, much less in combat.  She didn't feel like she really had contributed much, but it was important to Padmé that she had come along and that made it worthwhile.  She closed her eyes to rest for duration of the micro-jump back to the _Invictus_.  

Sarré's hands were shaking when she released her grasp on the control stick.  Although she had trained extensively for situations like this as part of being Leia's senatorial handmaiden, this was the first time she ever had experienced space combat as a pilot.  It was far more stressful than she had expected; it gave her renewed appreciation for Bryon's career when she realized he did this all the time.  She tried to calm her frenetic heartbeat by focusing on the fact that in a few short minutes she would get to see Leia again.  

Danaé was very glad to leave Xixus behind.  As hard as she had tried to avoid thinking about Oga, her thoughts had tormented her throughout the entire skirmish.  Was her Master still on the planet somewhere?  Was he dead?  Should she fly down and look for him?  She had managed to suppress those distracting troubles long enough to help the _Lady Vader_ escape, but as soon as she popped to hyperspace they roared back in full.  She took a calming breath and resolved to ask for help when she returned to the Temple.  

Padmé could not keep the silly grin off her face.  They had done it.  Leia was safe.  She was back.  Onboard the _Lady Vader_ with Ani.  She was so delighted she couldn't even begin to comprehend it; she thought perhaps she had not been this happy since Leia won election to the Senate.  She ran her gloved fingers through her hair and tried in vain to control her breathing.  The exhilaration of combat had a tendency to do this to her, and it had been a long time since she had experienced it.  Her heart was racing and the thrill of victory coursed through her veins.  It was a powerful emotion.  And she couldn't wait to be alone with Ani again because she loved the way he reacted when she was like this.  

When they felt the _Lady Vader_ rock into smooth flight, Mara and Leia unstrapped from their seats and headed straight toward the bunks.  From her face and Force presence Mara thought this was the happiest she had seen Leia since Jarren's death.  After retrieving the clean clothes for her she sat guard outside the refresher on one of the beds, just to be sure that Leia could relax and feel at ease.  

The stars outside the viewport shifted to long streaks of light.  Han simply shook his head back and forth in awe.  The _Lady Vader_ was a masterpiece.  He had kept score during the battle with the TIEs.  Antilles two and Bellion two.  The Skywalker girl three and Lady Skywalker three.  Luke three and Master Skywalker five, not counting the six before they reached space.  Some of that, of course, was Master Skywalker's skill as a pilot, but much of it was attributable to the _Lady Vader_ itself.  It almost was enough to make Han wish he had this ship instead of the _Falcon_.  Almost.  

Luke took a calming breath and let his hands fall into his lap.  He was tired.  Very tired.  He was profoundly pleased they had rescued Leia, but he had no idea what would come next.  Fighting linked to Mara had been unlike anything he had experienced before, even all the times he had fought side-by-side with his Master.  And then he and Obi-Wan almost had died.  It was the first time it ever had been a close question.  Now that the escape really was over he could release his concentration, and instantly his mind flooded with everything his supreme Jedi training had suppressed during those anxious moments.  When he shook himself back to reality minutes later, he realized he had been thinking about his parents and his siblings and even Mara – and Jenny.  Yes, Mara.  And Jenny.  Definitely Jenny.  But not Ralli Gialla – not even once.  He took another deep breath.  He had a lot to think about indeed. 

Anakin sat back in the pilot's seat and smiled.  They had done it.  Leia was safe.  She was here.  Onboard with him.  He could sense her in the Force, still upset and angry but also relieved and excited.  He was bringing her home.  Although it nearly had been a disaster, Obi-Wan and Luke had slain the Sith.  That too was something to celebrate.  Plus, he had the most kills in the battle with the TIEs – as if there had been any doubt.  And his heart soared when he considered the mood his angel was going to be in when they landed.  


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

The five starships landed together in the main docking bay of the _Invictus_.  As soon as she could Padmé tore the helmet from her head and scampered down the boarding ladder.  While she ran to the rear of the _Lady Vader_, she untied the braid in her hair and let it fall loosely over her tight lavender flight suit.  

Leia was down the ramp before it even finished lowering to the ground.  Instantly she burst into her mother's desperate embrace.  "I'm home," she whispered.  

"I know, sweetie," Padmé said quietly while she tenderly rubbed her daughter's back through her light-blue jumpsuit.  Leia's head fell onto her shoulder, and Padmé rested hers on Leia's.  "I was so worried about you." 

"It was awful," Leia admitted.  "But I don't want to talk about it right now." 

"Only when you're ready, dear.  Only then," her mother said softly, squeezing her tighter.  

Leia pulled back and stepped over to her maroon-clad father, who was waiting patiently at her mother's side.  "Daddy!"  It was all she could manage as she fell into his arms, no longer able to hold back her tears.  

"You're safe now," he told her gently.  "You're safe."  

When she controlled her emotions again she lifted up her face and stood on the tips of her toes without breaking the hug.  "It was a trap, Daddy," she said very quietly so her mother couldn't hear.  "That's why they took me.  They wanted you." 

"I knew that was a possibility," he whispered back.  "But they didn't get me, did they?"  

"No," she smiled.  "We beat them."  

He looked closely into her eyes as he released her.  "We got you out.  But it's far from over."  

She nodded sadly and turned around.  Yards away she saw Mara and Jenny talking to Solo, Calrissian, and Chewbacca, with Obi-Wan and Danaé close together in a deep conversation a few paces to the side.  Only a foot away Sarré was waiting expectantly, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Just behind her handmaiden she saw Luke nod knowingly – he would wait.  

"Come here," Leia said simply, letting her own tears flow again.  She held Sarré firmly while they both sobbed.  "I'm okay.  I promise.  I'm okay."  

"I was so scared," Sarré confessed through her sniffles.  "I was so scared you were going to die." 

"I was too," Leia said.  "But I didn't."  When they calmed down a little, still embracing tightly, Leia knew they both needed a lighter mood.  She whispered in her handmaiden's ear.  "Mara said you got to spend a few nights with Bryon." 

"Uh huh," Sarré smiled happily, pulling her head off Leia's shoulder to look her in the eyes. 

Leia grinned mischievously.  "Did you try out any of the things we talked about?"    

"No," she shook her head shyly.  "I just…  I don't…  We weren't really alone I guess and I got nervous and I guess it didn't seem like the right time I guess."  

"You'll know when it is," Leia giggled.  "And you're a much stronger woman than me, to have waited this long."  

Sarré blushed deeply, giggled too, and nodded.  "Talk to Luke." 

As Leia moved to her brother she saw Mara, Obi-Wan, and Danaé walking arm-in-arm together toward the exit to the rest of the destroyer, while right behind them Jenny and Solo's friends apparently were laughing at a joke he just had finished telling.  Watching Sarré jog to catch up with them, Leia glanced around the docking bay and realized her parents had vanished.  

She was not at all surprised.  They would reappear in an hour or two like they always did.  

Now that the twins were alone Luke walked forward and embraced her.  "I'm sorry it took so long." 

"It's alright," she sighed.  "Mara told me what happened when you came after the frigate, and about the Council's assessment, and all of that.  You did the right thing."  

"I know that now," he said forlornly.  "But I was pretty angry at Dad for a while." 

"He'll get over it," Leia laughed.  Then her face and voice became profoundly serious.  "When you were fighting the Sith…  I really thought…  I've never been so afraid I might lose you."  

Luke's face was somber too.  "For a little while there…  well…  It was pretty close.  Let's leave it at that."  

"You're too young to die."

"So are you."

She squeezed him tightly again, then stepped back and pointed to the exit.  "Somehow I didn't get to see Danaé.  And I just need to be around people.  I mean, we can talk more later, okay?  We should go be social."  

"Yes, I suppose we should," he smiled.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she threw an arm around his waist.  They laughed happily as they stumbled ungracefully along together, filled with relief and happiness. 

---

Luke found Jenny sitting on one of the sofas that faced the broad viewport of the lounge in the destroyer's guest quarters.  Neither of them had changed clothes or cleaned up since their arrival.  "May I sit with you?" he asked quietly.  

"Of course," she smiled gently, scooting a bit to the side to make more room.  

He folded his hands in his lap.  "I didn't expect to see you out there."  

"I didn't expect to be there," she admitted with a light laugh.  "But I've never been able to say no to your mother." 

"She counts on that sometimes, I think," he chuckled.  In the Force he sensed a wave of strange emotions emanating from her, ones he didn't know how to interpret.  

"Danaé tells me she actually likes your latest companion in the Temple."  

His face contorted in consternation.  "Ralli?  Yeah, she's fine."  

"Only fine?"  

"I realized during the mission that I'm not in love with her.  I mean, she's a good friend and all.  But I can't be with her.  Not the way I think she wants."  He was very glad Jenny couldn't read his feelings about why.  

"Oh."  

Luke was even more confused.  For a second he actually thought he had sensed jealousy and then relief from Jenny.  He decided must be perceiving what he wanted to, rather than what really was there.  He tried to lighten the mood.  "What about you?" 

"There's nothing to tell.  Not that I've been making any efforts." 

"Really?  I'm sure you'll find someone soon."  

"You all are my family," she smiled sadly, her eyes becoming watery.  

"But you're so great with kids.  You deserve to have a family of your own.  I mean, I'm sure…"    

She cut him off tenderly by putting a hand on his knee.  "No, Luke, it's not that simple."

"Sure it is," he persisted, still struggling to read her emotions.  

"When I was a slave on Tatooine, sometime back then…  we're not really sure when… something happened.  The doctors found it as soon as I got to Naboo when your parents freed me.  It's partly why they took me in and let me help raise all of you."  Tears flowed freely now.  "I'll never have any children of my own, okay?" 

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, realizing he had made a serious mistake in pushing the issue.  "I had no idea."  The rest he knew: Jenny's mother had died when she was very young without ever telling her who her father was, and the Jedi sister she never got to know had been killed at Geonosis by Count Dooku.  The Skywalkers really were her only family.  

"I've never told anyone else besides doctors," she sobbed.  "In the whole galaxy only Padmé and Anakin know.  Well, and now you."  

"I won't tell a soul, I promise," he whispered.  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her toward him.  She accepted the gesture and snuggled into his lap, her body shaking noticeably against him as she cried.  

"I just need a few minutes," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.  "Then I'll be fine," she added unconvincingly.  

"Take as long as you need," he soothed.  "I owe you one.  Many more than one, really."  

"That's true," she giggled, just a little.  "Thanks."  

"Of course," he smiled.  Through her sorrowful feelings he also sensed in the Force a strong pulse of affection.  It probably was simply her familial love for him.  But he had been thinking about her a lot since the night she had come to calm him down in his bedroom.  He really wanted to kiss her.  

He knew he shouldn't.  And – with great effort – he didn't.  

---

Leia returned to the main docking bay of the _Invictus_ with a slight spring in her step.  With Luke's description it wasn't very difficult to locate the starship she was seeking.  

"Hello, gentlemen," she smiled warmly.  

Lando and Chewie had changed clothes into mechanics' attire and were hard at work with welding torches atop the _Falcon_.  They raised their shielding visors and waved a greeting.  Han was beneath the ship just to the side of the lowered boarding ramp, tinkering at something with a pair of wrenches.  He banged one against the hull in frustration before he tucked them into his belt, wiped his greasy hands on the rear of his black pants, and walked over to her.  

"Hello, Princess," he smirked.  Unconsciously he adjusted the black vest he wore over his plain white shirt, for some reason feeling self-consciously underdressed even compared to her plain jumpsuit.  

She accepted the apparently permanent moniker with a wink.  "I came to thank you again for assisting in the rescue mission.  I know you weren't ordered to participate, and that is something I will never forget."  

Lando and Chewie acknowledged her gratitude with simple, humble nods.  Han's face flushed a little and he looked down at the floor.  "It was no big deal."  

"So this is your ship?"  

"You've never heard of the _Millennium Falcon_?"  

Before she could respond, Lando laughed loudly from above them.  "Han, old friend, _nobody's_ heard of the _Millennium Falcon_!"

Han shot him a glare so piercing that Lando and Chewie immediately lowered their visors and returned to their work.  "That's not entirely true, actually.  She's the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs."  

"Before you owned her?"

"Um… yeah…  of course.  Sure!  Before we owned her."  

She decided not to press him on why three Navy officers would have made the Kessel Run.  "I'll admit I certainly wouldn't think she's very fast just from seeing her."  

"She'll make point five past lightspeed," he chuckled.  "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, Princess.  And we've added some special modifications ourselves."

"Really?  May I see them?"  

Han raised an eyebrow, then offered her his arm.  "For you, of course.  Follow me on our grand tour, Your Ladyship."

With a bright smile Leia linked her arm through his and walked with him up the boarding ramp.  

---

In response to the urgent messages on their respective comlinks the four women gathered in the interior conference room on the bridge for another holographic transmission.  Padmé tried in vain to rub the wrinkles out of her flight suit and brushed her hair vigorously.  Leia drummed her fingers on the table while staring intensely at some invisible spot on its surface.  Jenny wiped her bloodshot eyes and seemed utterly distracted.  And Sarré literally sat on her hands to keep from grabbing Leia's to make her stop.  

The projector buzzed and the flickering blue image of two heads rose over the table.  Padmé's attempt to subtly hide the hairbrush from Sabé was equally ineffective as Sarré's effort at concealing the joy she felt at seeing Bryon.  

While Bryon and Sarré shared a tender gaze, Sabé simply shook her head.  "If we're interrupting something, Padmé…" 

Leia refused to be distracted.  "Sabé, I can't thank you enough for filling in for me in the Senate and attending the peace summit as a delegate.  You did our people a great service, one for which I will always be grateful."  

"Oh, don't be so serious about it, Leia," Sabé smiled.  "You don't have to thank me.  It was my pleasure to serve again."  Then she laughed.  "Especially because it was only temporary!"  

Leia nodded.  "I know you feel that way, but you still have my gratitude."  

"Very well."  Sabé took a deep breath.  "The summit is over.  I'm afraid I don't have much favorable to report."  

"How bad is it?" asked Padmé reluctantly.  

"Pretty bad.  It's a complete victory for Argis."  Sabé leaned forward in the image.  "The New Justice movement made no substantial concessions.  They keep all the systems they control.  There's no limit on his military buildup, much less a requirement of demilitarization.  No prohibition on conscription from captured planets.  No agreement to resume participation in the Senate or to comply with the laws of the Republic."  

Leia laughed.  "Even Luke could have cut a deal better than _that_, and he's terrible at negotiations!"  

Sabé chuckled knowingly.  "The Republic even agreed to consider economic assistance packages for the Mid and Outer Rims.  The only point Rylla and Breena won – if you can call it that – was that Argis' team pledged to work more aggressively to end piracy against commercial shipping from their territories."  

"Which is a joke," Padmé scoffed, "because all the piracy is by Vyhrragian military anyway, not by vigilantes or outlaws."  She shook her head in disbelief.  "Argis couldn't have wished for this in his wildest dreams.  He gets everything he wanted and gives up nothing.  It's remarkable.  Absolutely remarkable.   Complete and utter appeasement of the highest order.  It's so obvious, my colleagues in the academy aren't even going to believe it could possibly actually have happened."

"Well, it did," Sabé agreed in dismay.  "At least I'll go down in history as having voted against it."  

"And Rylla and Breena will be remembered as fools," Leia grinned.  

"Although that was the case regardless, I think," Sarré interjected.   

"That's probably true," Sabé winked.  "Needless to say, the peace faction delegates are insisting that the Accord signed by the parties is a great step forward in resolving the disputes.  The Supreme Chancellor's office already released a statement declaring that the agreement will bring…  Let me get this right…  It's just too good."  She looked down to find her notes.  "Here it is.  'It will bring peace for our time.'  Can you believe it?"  

Padmé couldn't keep herself from laughing.  "He really said that?  Wow.  I'm beginning to understand why you were so upset when he won the chancellorship!"  

Sabé laughed too.  "Yeah.  I've never really been his biggest supporter, have I?"  She flashed a wink to Padmé when she noticed that Bryon and Sarré were staring at each other again.  "Well, that's all there is from here.  I'll transmit a copy of the final Accord as soon as I have it.  The summit is adjourned now, but we won't be leaving before tomorrow local time."  

"I'm sure we'll see you back at Coruscant very soon, then," Leia said.  "Thanks again, Sabé."  

"Of course," Sabé smiled.  "Goodbye, everyone.  May the Force be with you."  

"And also with you," Padmé smiled back.  

Just before Sabé terminated the transmission, Bryon spoke.  

"Wait."  Everyone looked at him.  "Sarré?"  

"Yes?"  She was very surprised he was willing to speak to her at all in front of the others.  

"I miss you.  And I can't wait to see you…  And I…  Well, I mean…  What I'm trying to say is…  I love you."  

Sarré was so stunned by the completely unforeseen public admission that she didn't say anything.  

Seeing the look of sheer terror on Bryon's face when she hadn't responded yet, Leia plopped her head on her handmaiden's shoulder and slapped both arms around her.  "She loves you too, Bryon.  Don't you, Sarré?"

"Um, yes," she mumbled, still in shock, eyes welling up.  

"See, now that we've finally got this out in the open we all feel much better," Leia grinned.  "You're a very lucky man, Bryon!"  With a knowing nod, Sabé terminated the feed from the other end.  

Even before they had finished laughing, Padmé took Jenny by the hand and pulled her toward the door.  "Come on, let's get some caf," she sputtered.  "And you can tell me what's upset you," she whispered in her ear.  Jenny nodded weakly and followed her out.   

Still seated at the table, Leia held Sarré in a gentle hug until she finally stopped crying.  

---****

King Argis IV of Vyhrrag slammed his fist violently onto the surface of his dark wooden desk.  "How could this happen?" he screamed at the five generals standing fearfully before him.  "How was Senator Organa permitted to escape?" 

"We are continuing to analyze the situation on Xixus, Your Highness," one of the men said tentatively.  "It appears there were at least three Jedi involved and…"  

"Jedi!" the monarch exclaimed in indignation.  "Jedi, Jedi, Jedi.  That is all you ever talk to me about.  Are you completely incapable of success if you must oppose Jedi, is that it?"

"No, sir," the man insisted.  "I was only trying to…"  

"Apparently you are no longer reliable," Argis interrupted again.  "The Crusaders have yet to fail me in any task I have given them.  I have learned my lesson.  Anything important in the future I will give to them.  Your assignments will be only those for which I can tolerate failure."  

"Your Highness," another of the generals said assertively, "that will not be necessary.  We will not let you down again.  You have my word."  

"A bold claim, General.  A very bold claim."  Argis rose from his chair and stalked around the desk to tower over the five nervous officers.  He stroked his black beard contemplatively.  "As it happens I have an operation in mind.  It can be your final test."  

"Yes, Your Highness.  We would be honored," the second general declared.  

"It is time we made our presence truly felt.  It is time for decisive action."  Argis began to pace back and forth in his deep purple royal attire, his black cape billowing behind him.  "We will deploy the Victory Squadron of the First Fleet to the Corellian Trade Spine a dozen parsecs Inward from Xixus.  We will sever the Spine.  No traffic will flow, commercial or otherwise.  The more vessels we can board and plunder the better."  He spun triumphantly on his heel and pumped a clenched fist.  "We will take what is ours!"

"Your Highness, the Victory Squadron?  The dreadnought has not yet been combat-tested," the first general noted.  

"It has a name, General.  The _Hand of Justice_ is our greatest naval glory to date.  The Republic has only a handful of battleships that carry a comparable arsenal, and none of them has yet been deployed anywhere near us.  The remaining vessels in their fleets will no match for it."  

"Your Highness, what about your pledge in the Accord from the summit?" the second general asked reluctantly. 

"The summit was merely a delaying tactic, General.  I have no intention of honoring the Accord or the meaningless pledge it contains.  The Accord's sole purpose is to weaken Supreme Chancellor Trellem.  When I do not live up to the agreement, he will be made a fool.  And when the Chancellors falls, the Senate will degenerate into petty partisanship and inaction.  The Republic will be weakened, and our full plans for invasion and conquest can begin."  

"I understand, Your Highness," the general nodded.  

"Very well, Generals.  Implement the orders immediately.  Bring great success to the New Justice movement and to my name."  His dark eyes stared coldly into face of each man.  "For your own sakes."  

"Yes, Your Highness," they all bowed in unison.  

"You are dismissed.  Do your duty."  

---

Darth Barbarus and Darth Delicti did their best to disappear into the dark shadows of the dimly lit room.  If they were invisible to their Master, then they were less likely inadvertently to suffer her wrath.  

From beneath the hood of her black cloak Darth Vengous viciously berated the small blue holographic image hovering over the desk.  "Explain yourself!" 

"Lady Savager is dead, my Master," the hooded man replied.  

"Do not insult me, Lord Nefarious!  I sensed her death in the Force the moment it occurred."  She paced back and forth in front of the image in outrage.  

"I apologize, my Master," he said uneasily.  "From what I have determined from my own perceptions and from the security cameras, it appears she confronted Kenobi.  She was on the verge of defeating him when his Padawan broke away from the rescue team and intervened." 

"That is a direct contravention of Jedi procedure, and no doubt also of Kenobi's own orders," Vengous stated thoughtfully.  "This is an interesting development."  Then she exhaled sharply and crossed her arms over her chest.  

"Yes, my Master.  Lady Savager nearly had defeated both of the Jedi when I detected a surge in the Force.  The same instant the killing blow was struck."  

"By whom?"

"By Luke Skywalker, my Master."  

"Fools!  You fools!"  Vengous slammed her black-gloved palms to the desk and leaned in toward the image.  "He was there.  The Chosen One was there!  The surge you felt was his direction to his son.  It is the only explanation for a sudden victory of the kind you describe."  

"I am sorry, my Master.  We did not sense him."  

"That is inexcusable."  Vengous began to pace again.  "Even if you believed he was not there, why did you not carry out the plan?  Had you activated the explosion, you would have killed Kenobi, and the Jedi son, and the Senator daughter.  That alone would have been great progress in our plans, Lord Nefarious."  

"I have no answer, my Master.  Lady Savager carried the detonator trigger, and I do not know why she did not use it.  I will do my best to determine why."  He paused for a moment.  "His apprentice was there as well, my Master.  The one called Jade."  

"A wise admission, Lord Nefarious.  You have spared yourself much by telling me the truth now."  

"Yes, my Master."  

"I will permit you one opportunity to atone for your errors, Lord Nefarious.  Join the fleet in its operation at the Trade Spine.  The Skywalkers will be there.  I have foreseen it.  Slay him and as many of his kin as you can."  Vengous stopped in front of the image again.  "If you fail me, Lord Nefarious, it will be for the last time."  

"Yes, my Master."  

"You are dismissed."  A wave of her hand terminated the transmission abruptly.  Then she spun to face the pair of figures barely visible in the corner.  "Lord Barbarus, what does General Tarkin say of the operation?" 

"With only this limited time to evaluate it he is neither strongly in favor nor strongly opposed, Master," Darth Barbarus answered, stepping forward confidently.  "So long as we are willing to bear the cost of defeat should it occur, then we should proceed."  

"Very well.  Then we will proceed."  

---

With the _Invictus_ already on its way to respond to the sudden and unanticipated Vyhrragian blockade of the Corellian Trade Spine, Obi-Wan called the three apprentices together.  While they walked slowly through the gray hallways of the destroyer, he explained the situation to them.  

_We've only been back a few hours_, Danaé sighed to herself.  _And now it's all started again._

"The Republic is mustering the warships we have in the vicinity," the Jedi Master began.  "It seems unlikely our battle group will be as large as theirs, but we must proceed anyway.  And we will have one distinct advantage over the Vyhrragians: a squadron of Jedi pilots." 

Luke was confused.  "Master?  Five hardly constitutes a squadron."  

"True.  But reinforcements are on the way.  Master Krint and Master Secura already have departed Coruscant with her Padawan, as well as three other apprentices with an Ace rating who were available." 

"How will they reach us in time, Master Kenobi?" Mara wondered.  "The hyperdrives on our X-Wings are not powerful enough for such a fast journey."  

"Yes, certainly," Obi-Wan agreed.  "They are traveling in one of the Order's rapid-response shuttles.  They will arrive before the battle group assembles tomorrow.  And Admiral Mirkalla already has set aside a complement of Navy X-Wings for them.  Perhaps not their customized fighters, but familiar enough." 

Luke and Mara nodded, very pleased to have their personal X-Wings on hand.  

"I'm glad I got to fly cover at Xixus, then," Danaé said quietly.  "It had been a long time since I'd flown in combat.  At least now I've had a little bit of practice." 

"You'll be fine," her brother reassured her.  "You're a very good pilot."

"Thanks," she smiled humbly.  "As long as I don't compare myself to you, it's easy to remember that."  

"Don't listen to the stories he tells you, Danaé," Mara interjected mischievously.  "Most of them are blatantly false.  Or substantial exaggerations."

"Hey!" Luke exclaimed indignantly.  "Everything I told you was true." 

Obi-Wan chuckled and winked at Danaé.  "From a certain point of view."

"From a certain point of view?" Luke sputtered in outrage.  "I'm the best pilot in the Jedi Order!" 

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows.  "Only in your mind, my very young apprentice."  

"Yes, Luke," Danaé giggled.  "I think _Dad_ might have something to say about that!"  Mara burst out laughing and slapped hands in the air with Danaé triumphantly.  

"I agree," Obi-Wan grinned.  "Speaking of Anakin – has anyone seen him?"

---

She awoke to the loud, persistent beeping of a comlink.  Her husband was lying on his back, his arms hidden beneath the long brown hair trailing down her back.  She was draped along his side like a garment, her left hand on the side of his neck, the fingers of her right hand buried in his short gray hair.  As always when they slept, their heartbeats and breathing were in unison.  In the unlit room she tentatively opened her eyes, barely peering out over the edge of the drawn-up bedsheet.  

"Ani?"  

He continued his peaceful slumber.  To outward appearances.  

"Ani."  Long familiar with the way their sleeping bodies harmonized, she knew full well that if she was awake, he was too.  She nuzzled his neck warmly.  

He stubbornly kept his eyes closed.  

She scratched his scalp and tickled his shoulder.  "Ani, cut it out."

He began a patently false snore while simultaneously tickling her back with his fingertips.  

She giggled happily and somehow managed to snuggle even tighter against him.  "The comlink."  

"Not again," Anakin groaned as he finally opened his eyes.  

"At least this time we got to sleep a little too," Padmé whispered in his ear, bursting the words lightly against his skin.  

"Some consolation," he muttered.  "Mine?"  

"Yours."  

"This had better be important."

Slowly his right hand made its way out from underneath the sheet and extended straight up in the air like a living antenna.  On the floor the disorganized heap of maroon and lavender flight suits began to shake and quiver.  Seconds later a small comlink flew out from beneath the pile and smacked into his palm.  He tapped the side with his thumb to stop the beeping, then held it high a lengthy moment longer before he reluctantly lowered his hand to a suitable distance.  

With cheeks pressed tenderly together they read the short text message.  

"It's important," Padmé sighed.  


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

The briefing room on the _Invictus_ was jammed to capacity with Navy officers in dress uniforms, pilots wearing flight suits in a multitude of colors and styles, a handful of Jedi in the Order's maroon flight suits, and a few observers standing in the rear of the amphitheater.  The crowd was abuzz with conversations about the impending battle for control of the Corellian Trade Spine.  Around the room moods varied from bold to anxious, confident to nervous, and swaggering to fearful.  

Admiral Mirkalla rapped his fingers on the lectern to draw the attention of the assembled soldiers.  Behind him the viewscreen activated with a computer image of the anticipated site for battle.  "We are ready to begin," the calm commanding officer said with a raised voice to quiet the last of the undercurrent.  "I am Admiral Mirkalla of the _Invictus_.  I welcome you all to my ship, from which we will coordinate our strategies in the engagement to come.  To my right is Captain Wedge Antilles, who will command Blue Squadron.  To his right is Captain Biggs Darklighter, who will lead Green Squadron.  To my left is Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker, who will direct the Jedi pilots in Red Squadron."  

The three men nodded politely while the crowd murmured in recognition or surprise.  Admiral Mirkalla continued after only a short pause.  "Here is what we face.  We have assembled a fleet consisting of this destroyer, two battle cruisers, two frigates, and three squadrons of starfighters."  With his finger he indicated the blue warships added to the visual projection.  "The Vyhrragian fleet is much larger.  Its flagship is a new dreadnought commissioned only days ago – a super destroyer we believe to be named the _Hand of Justice._  This dreadnought is over three times the size of the _Invictus_ and carries at least four times the firepower."  Sharp expressions of dread and consternation arose in the room.  Mirkalla ignored them and continued.  "In addition, the Vyhrragians have three cruisers, four frigates, and probably four or five squadrons of starfighters."  The corresponding red vessels appeared on the viewscreen as well.  

"This is ridiculous!" exclaimed an unidentified voice in the mass of men.  "We'll be slaughtered."  

Wedge Antilles silenced the ensuing uproar by lifting his hands and glaring sharply around the room.  "While it is true we are outmanned and outgunned by the Vyhrragians, the situation is far from hopeless.  To begin with, we have a small squadron of Jedi pilots, which is worth at least two or three full squadrons of Vyhrragian regulars."  Even the most skeptical pilots in the room had to admit the truth of that statement.  "Moreover, we have a strategy that will even the fight.  As soon as possible we will deploy Red Squadron to attack the _Hand of Justice_ directly.  Once the dreadnought is disabled, our destroyer will more than overpower their remaining ships."  

"And how exactly are the Reds going to do that?" demanded another anonymous heckler.  

Admiral Mirkalla chuckled confidently, bringing the room to silence again.  "I think we all trust the Jedi to come through for us, do we not?"  The torrent of skeptical glances and snide remarks clearly revealed that most of the pilots were unconvinced by the non-answer.  

Standing along the side of the room with the group of Jedi, Han leaned toward Obi-Wan.  "Please tell me we've identified a weakness in this dreadnought and all we have to do is fly in and hit it."  

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over the front of his maroon flight suit and chuckled.  "No, Captain Solo, we have not.  Even with the schematics of this warship that our spies obtained, we could find no defects to exploit.  But that is of no concern.  The Force will guide us to a flaw our eyes could not see."  

Han rolled his eyes and used a single finger to stretch out the collar of his blue flight suit.  "I knew I'd find an old-fashioned Jedi among your bunch sooner or later," he scoffed.  "And I knew it'd be a crazy fool who'd say something like _that_!"  

Obi-Wan smirked.  "Who's the more foolish?  The fool or the fool who follows him?"  

Han simply shook his head in frustration and leaned away to whisper to Chewie and Lando.  

---

Down in the hangar the two astromechs humored the frantic Threepio.  "You have to come back," he was insisting theatrically.  "You have to!"  

Artoo blooped and whistled reassuringly.  "Yes, I'm aware that Mistress Danaé is an excellent pilot.  But are you sure about this strange X-Wing you'll be using?  Have you checked out all its components?  Have you…"  

Jaytoo interrupted with a series of insistent squawks and beeps.  "Well, no, I suppose I'm not as worried about you.  You and Master Anakin have flown many times in the _Lady Vader_ and I doubt any of these opponents will be able to challenge you effectively."  

Artoo honked indignantly.  "No, no.  I most certainly did not mean that as an insult to Mistress Danaé!  I merely was pointing out that Master Anakin…"  

Jaytoo whistled an interruption to keep the protocol droid entirely off kilter.  "Yes.  You have to return.  Both of you," Threepio demanded.  "You wouldn't want my life to get boring, would you?"  

---

When the briefing ended, Obi-Wan caught Luke's attention with a tilt of his head.  

"Yes, Master?"  

"Luke, you must be patient in the battle.  You are a superior pilot and capable of maneuvers the rest of us could only dream of executing.  But your chances for success will greatly diminish if you act recklessly."  

"Yes, Master," Luke nodded firmly.  

"You must trust in the Force.  You must follow where it leads you.  If you try to make it do your bidding, it can only lead to disaster.  Act carefully.  Focus.  Have patience."  

"I know, Master," Luke nodded again, this time with an indisputable edge of defiance.  _Not another lecture…_

Obi-Wan perceived that this was neither the time nor the place for instruction and decided the best he could hope for was a moderate concession.  "Luke, I ask just one promise of you."  

"Anything, Master," he agreed without reservation.  Whatever it was, he would do it.  No matter how difficult it might be.  

"No inexcusable stunts this time.  Not like Xixus.  Understood?"  

Luke smiled.  "Yes, Master.  I promise."  

A short distance away Anakin had walked deliberately from the podium directly to his Padawan.  

"Yes, Master?"  

"Fly well, Mara."  

"Thank you, Master," she nodded.  

"You did well at Xixus," he smiled proudly.  "You performed your mission efficiently, you controlled your feelings, and you did your duty when Obi-Wan was in danger."

"Thank you, Master," she nodded again, very humbly.  

"Mara, let the Force guide you.  Be patient.  Let the battle flow around you."  Then he flashed her a mischievous grin.  "Nevertheless, I have a substantial wager with Master Kenobi concerning our two pairs."  He held her gaze tightly with mock intensity.  "You _can_ outfly the old man, can't you?" 

Mara chuckled and winked.  "Without a doubt, Master." 

In the rear corner of the room Padmé turned to Leia.  "I don't like this at all.  Our fleet is outnumbered and we don't even know how we're going to take out their dreadnought."  

Leia held her mother's arm to keep her in place while the dozens of pilots filed out the large doors nearby.  "It'll be fine, Mom, don't worry."  

"I wish I had your optimism," Padmé sighed.  "Everything is different now.  I'm afraid.  More afraid than I've been since…"  Her voice trailed off momentarily while she stared blankly at the wall, her eyes welling up.  "Since before you were born."  

Leia tightened her grip reassuringly and smiled, then waved over Jenny and Sarré for further assistance in soothing her mother.  "Even if no one else does, Daddy or Luke will figure something out.  They always do.  That's just how it is."  

Padmé couldn't smile back.  "And what if they can't?"  

---

Anakin tugged his black gloves more tightly onto his hands and ran his fingers once through his short gray hair.  He tapped the comlink to speaker and snapped his grip around the two-handed control stick of the _Lady Vader._  He took three quick deep breaths and raised his eyes to the fleet arrayed in front of him out the viewport.  "Red Squadron, this is Red Leader.  All Wings check in."  

"Red Twelve, standing by," Captain Solo's voice responded immediately from the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon_.  

Anakin chuckled to himself.  Somehow he had expected the officer to upstage the Jedi.   

"Red Five, standing by," Luke said quickly.  

"Red Six, standing by," snapped Mara instantly.  

The other Jedi were calm and organized.  "Red Two, standing by," said Master Krint.  "Red Three, standing by," said Master Secura.  "Red Four, standing by," Obi-Wan followed.  

"Red Seven, standing by," Danaé added after a moment's pause in deference to her superiors.  Red Eight, Master Secura's Padawan, checked in next, followed by the three Ace apprentices, Red Nine, Red Ten, and Red Eleven.  

Anakin looked over his shoulder to Jaytoo, as always secured to his station in the rear of the cockpit with his interface arm connected to the console.  "Ready, buddy?"  

The black-and-gold astromech whistled excitedly.  

Anakin faced forward again and spoke to his squadron.  "Lock S-foils in attack position."  He paused.  "Except Red Twelve, of course."  

---

Before she joined Admiral Mirkalla and his staff at the battle assessment table with its three-dimensional holographic representation of the two opposing fleets, Padmé walked slowly toward the broad viewport on the bridge of the _Invictus_.  From this vantage point she took in a final real-life image of the naval formations, swarms of tiny starfighters surrounding the large warships like busy insects in the flowered Lake Country meadows of Naboo.  Suspended against the field of stars and the blackness of space, the gray metallic wedges possessed an almost otherworldly quality.  As her boots and those of her companions tapped against the floor, it struck her that something was not right.  

Abruptly she turned around and realized Leia was not there.  When Jenny gave a puzzled shrug, Padmé stared at Sarré.  The young woman would not look her in the eyes.  "Sarré, where is Leia?"  

Sarré appeared to be mesmerized by a spot on the floor.  

Padmé's voice rose and her tone became sharper.  "Sarré?"  

She had a very apologetic look on her face when she met Padmé's intense gaze.  "I'm sorry.  Senator-handmaiden privilege."

Padmé laughed, then realized Sarré was completely serious.  She wasn't going to say.  Padmé made one final attempt to stare her down.   Although Sarré flinched, she did not speak.  "Ensign," Padmé called out to the nearby communications officer, "has the Senator from Naboo checked into the bridge?"  

"No, Lady Skywalker, she has not," came the answer within a few seconds.  

Padmé snatched her personal comlink from her belt and pounded in a code with a single finger.  "Leia Skywalker Organa!  Contact me _this instant_!"  

Sarré visibly shivered at the furious tone in Padmé's raised voice.  _The things I do for Leia…  Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it._  She genuinely was considering fleeing to another part of the bridge.   

Fortunately, her friend did not let her down.  "Hi, Mom!" Leia's voice chirped over the comlink.  

"Where are you?"  

"On the _Millennium Falcon._"  

"_WHAT?_"

"I asked Captain Solo if I could fly with him, and he said yes."  

"You didn't!"

"I'm one of the gunners on the quad cannons.  Isn't that great?"  

Listening to the voice and reflecting on the actions, Padmé experienced the unsettling realization that – so far as she could tell – her eldest daughter suddenly and inexplicably had lost a decade of maturity.  It was like some surreal flashback to Leia's rebellious early teenage years.  And this was not the most opportune time to revive that era.  "Be safe, Leia," was all she could manage to say.  

"I will, Mom.  Don't worry."  

It took every ounce of willpower she ever had mustered for Padmé to compel herself to speak with a calm tone.  "May the Force be with you."  

"Thanks, Mom!"  With that the comlink clicked off.  

---****

Anakin dropped his mind deeply into the Force and pondered the scope of the battle that was about to begin.  Five massive warships against eight, with hundreds of starfighters charging toward each other across the empty space between the fleets.  He considered activating the pilot's forward display but decided his Force perceptions gave him all the information he needed.  Every detail was clear in his mind's eye.  

He flipped the comlink switch to open the microphone to the all-fleet channel.  As usual he did not wear a helmet or headset to fly the _Lady Vader._  "This is Red Leader.  We're taking the _Hand of Justice_."  

"Look at the size of that thing," gasped Wedge Antilles.  "I hope you know what you're doing, Skywalker."  

"Thanks for the confidence, Blue Leader," Anakin laughed.  

"We'll engage the enemy fighters," Wedge responded with a chuckle.  The huge array of orange-and-white Navy X-Wings turned as one toward the incoming TIE fighters.  

"Copy, Blue Leader," came Darklighter's voice from the speaker.  "Green Squadron, deploy to the enemy frigates.  We'll take them out."  The Y-Wing starfighters swerved away in four large arrowhead formations toward the far end of the Vyhrragian fleet.  

"Roger.  May the Force be with you."  Anakin flipped the comlink to the Red Squadron frequency.  "Red Squadron, mark one-one-five.  We're heading to the dreadnought, and taking out as many TIEs as we can along the way."  

While his wings responded affirmatively, Anakin set the controls of the _Lady Vader_ for optimal combat readiness.  He had no co-pilots this time, so he kept part of his awareness reserved for the two consoles behind him.  Using the Force he adjusted settings and spun dials on the port console to layer the shields.  On the starboard console he prepared the lateral laser cannons for firing.  His hands gripped the control stick firmly and his fingers twitched, itching to open fire on the enemy starfighters.  

The seconds ticked away and the opposing formations drew within range.  

"Fire at will!"  

---

After blasting several TIEs, Luke realized he would not be able to focus fully on the battle while still holding a mental link with Mara.  He had a good sense of the boiling mass of starfighters surging through space, but keeping his awareness on the zipping points of energy in the Force was taking all of his concentration.  _Can we go to audio?_ he asked quickly.  

_I was about to ask the same thing_, she admitted happily, having discovered the identical struggle occurring in her own mind.  They both were powerful apprentices – but this was too difficult even for them.  Someday, certainly, it would not be.  But it was today.  

Luke flicked a switch and set his comlink to a private channel.  "Four."  

"Three," came her voice a moment later into his helmet.  

Luke swooped around on a vulnerable enemy pilot.  "Five."  

"Six."

_What!  How?_  He dove and fired again.  "Seven."  

"Seven."  

_Better._  These opponents were weaker than he had expected.  "Ten."  

"Nine."  

A swift loop brought him around on another pair of TIEs.  "Twelve."  

"Ten."  

Luke cleared off two TIEs that swept toward Red Nine, then climbed rapidly and incinerated two more.  "Sixteen."  

"Eleven."  

"I like the sound of this."

"Shut up." 

---

Standing over the battle assessment table, Admiral Mirkalla watched the smaller warships engage while the formations of starfighters twirled and zoomed across the battlefield, then smashed together in eruptions of explosions.  Red Squadron was making slow progress toward the _Hand of Justice_.  Blue Squadron was holding off masses of TIEs attempting to charge the Republic fleet, while Green Squadron joined one Republic cruiser in attacking a smaller Vyhrragian frigate.  

"Stay on target, Blue Leader, Green Leader," he announced into the open intercom.  

Watching the raging combat from the table's side, Padmé was on the verge of tears from anguish.  It had been many years since she last had witnessed a major military engagement, and it was excruciating now to experience another.  When the scale of fighting was small, like defending herself or her family from yet another assassination attempt or rescuing Leia from Xixus, she often found the intensity of battle exhilarating – but something like this was totally different.  She had lost her innocence about war at a young age, when the mythic concept of the glorious, legendary triumph had been terrifyingly and grotesquely falsified by the Battle of Naboo in her first year as Queen.  The painfully high number of Gungans and the Naboo who had died to save their planet still haunted her.  She knew it was the price of freedom and democracy – but that did not make war any less horrific. 

Jenny crossed her arms over the front of her light blue flight suit and looked at her identically attired friends.  She knew Padmé well enough not to disturb her quiet contemplation.  Sarré was gripping the edge of the table fiercely, and Jenny could see that she was struggling to control her shaking legs.  Jenny remembered the worst battles of the Separatist insurrection and several other deadly conflicts in the subsequent years.  Sarré, on the other hand, was too young to recall anything more than minor skirmishes in the Republic, and now she was about to witness the deaths of thousands.  Jenny reached a hand past Padmé and covered one of Sarré's.  Knowing it probably was a futile gesture but lacking any other ideas, she did her best to soothe the young woman with a warm smile.  

Suddenly Admiral Mirkalla spoke sharply to the command console.  "Bring us around.  Enemy cruiser Alpha is exposed.  Bring us around and open fire!"

---

In the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon_ Han and Chewie tore the freighter furiously through the formations of TIE fighters.  In addition to the front guns, Lando and Leia had strapped into the gunner pods.  

Han swooped the _Falcon_ through a sharp curve and blasted a pair of TIEs.  Chewie wrawled a direction, and Han responded with another swift arc and destroyed another pair of TIEs.  

"You planning to leave any for us?" Lando chuckled.  

"Hey, there's plenty to go around."  

"You promised me explosions, Captain," Leia laughed in mock complaint.  "I'm still waiting."  

"Didn't pick up any of that Jedi patience in your family, I take it?"   

"Never really been my strong point." 

He paused momentarily.  "Get ready.  You're up."  

The _Falcon_ zoomed through a rolling loop and came around on a formation of four TIEs.  Han took out one with the front guns and Lando blasted another with his cannon.  

When the targeting computer beeped loudly, Leia squeezed the triggers.  The thundering concussions of the quad cannon shook her ribs and rattled her teeth as she watched the TIE incinerate in a ball of flame.  Immediately she pushed off with her feet and swung her hips roughly to the left.  With her triggers held down, the gunner seat slammed across the pod and brought her into line on the other enemy starfighter, which erupted in another fireball.  

She grinned broadly.  "I got them!  I got them!"  

"Great, Princess!  Don't get cocky."  

---

With the initial skirmishes barely underway, a sudden alarm sounded in all their cockpits simultaneously.  Those who checked their battle status displays saw immediately what it was.  And the individuals on the bridge of the _Invictus_ collectively gasped when they looked out the viewport.  

A black, unmarked, heavily armed frigate had dropped from hyperspace at the edge of the battlefield.  An instant later a swarm of starfighters spewed from both sides of the warship and headed toward the battle.  

Every single person in the Republic fleet panicked – except one.  

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Anakin laughed into his open comlink microphone.  

"Red Leader, this is Gold Leader.  Reporting for duty."  Bryon's voice flowed from the speaker with a deep, fierce intensity.  He led a squadron of sixty dark gray Special Forces A-Wings surging into combat formations.  In the rest of the fleet his words caused hollers of joy and sighs of relief.  

"Copy.  Blue Leader, take the offensive.  Gold Leader, deploy to the fleet.  Keep the bogies off them."  

"Roger, Red Leader," Bryon said proudly.  "May the Force be with you, Father." 

"And with you, son." 

---

Mara swung her X-Wing around and incinerated another TIE fighter.  "Twenty-two."  

The voice over her comlink was chuckling.  "Thirty-one." 

"This isn't fair."  

"Not fair, is life," Luke teased, mimicking his father's mimicry of Master Yoda.  

"No, I mean the comparison.  I'm not matching you."

"Oh, right.  Arfour?"  His voice paused, waiting for the droid's response.  "Master Obi-Wan has fourteen."

"Then I'm doing my part.  And you?"  

"Dad has…  You're kidding…  That's impossible!  I mean…  Yes, check it again!"  

After a long silence over the feed Mara wasn't about to let the matter drop.  "Luke?"

"Dad has forty-eight." 

Mara was laughing so hard she couldn't form words.  

---

The Vyhrragian cruiser that had fallen out of position suffered a barrage of strikes from the heavy laser cannons of the _Invictus_.  Although it tried to execute an evasive maneuver, the gunners on the _Invictus_ held their aim and pounded the shields with a continuous stream of enormous, blindingly bright bolts.  

Suddenly an incoming shot dissipated in an incandescent display of sparks and streams of energy.  The cruiser's shields had collapsed.  

The next instant a trio of bolts slammed into the unprotected hull of the cruiser, shattering it in half in a gigantic explosion.  Several more bolts hit the remaining pieces of the warship, which finally detonated in a brilliant flash of flame and white-hot shards of metal.  

All the Jedi present on the battlefield felt a piercing wave of pain in the Force as hundreds of enemy lives were snuffed out.  For most of them it was a fleeting distraction – a focused mind bound to its immediate duty could solemnly disperse the gruesome sensation.  

For Danaé, however, the sharp scream of death ripped through her consciousness and tore at the pit of her stomach.  Only her sheer determination prevented her from retching in the cockpit of her X-Wing.  Even after that she had to keep her eyes closed for several seconds to clear the ache away from her spirit.  It was the price of her attunement to the living Force – although many aspects of her powers and skills exceeded those of Luke or Mara or many other Jedi, it also left her vulnerable to events like this.  The effect of sensing a mass casualty, especially from such a close proximity, was many times greater for her.  

Fortunately she retained enough focus on the battle to evade the attacks of a diving TIE until she regained her full concentration.  With all her heart she wished that the battle would end soon, before she had to experience the destruction of another heavily manned warship.  

Detecting her distress, Artoo toodled an anxious query.  "I'll be fine, Artoo," she whispered mournfully.  "I'll be fine." 

---

After he shook the ghastly blur of death from his mind, Anakin evaluated the enormous breadth of the battle raging around him.  Red Squadron had made considerable progress toward the _Hand of Justice_, although as yet he had not discerned any possible way for them to attack and disable the dreadnought.  Blue and Green Squadrons were striking at the small frigates of the Vyhrragian fleet, and Bryon's Gold Squadron was doing an admirable job of repelling most of the TIE fighter attacks on the Republic fleet.  The destruction of one enemy cruiser had improved the numbers momentarily, but Anakin sensed several weaknesses in the Republic's formation and knew it would not take long for the Vyhrragians to exploit them.  

Moreover, the Vyhrragians seemed to have noticed the superior skills of the pilots in Red Squadron and were sending many more TIEs at their formation.  It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay together while defending the onslaught.  

Anakin sighed deeply.  He already had killed more enemy pilots than he cared to think about, and the prospect of having to kill further dozens disgusted him.  The friendly wager with Obi-Wan was their well proven technique for helping their minds conceive of the enemy starfighters simply as targets or inanimate foes like battle droids – and for avoiding being distracted during the battle by the awful truth.  This loss of life was pointless and excessive, but Argis' aggression had made it necessary.  

Quickly he made a decision.  

"Red Squadron," he announced calmly into his open comlink, "break formation.  Continue toward the goal, but get there any way you choose."  

His wings reported in affirmatively, and seconds later the two loosely shaped wedges of ten X-Wings, the _Lady Vader_, and the _Millennium Falcon_ split into pieces and sailed away in diverging loops and dives.  

"May the Force be with you." 

---

"Where'd the X-Wings go?" asked Leia, looking out the viewport of her gunner pod in consternation.  

"We were taking too much fire in formation," Han's voice explained quickly over the intercom.  "We're on our own." 

"What will that accomplish?"  

"Oh, no, not completely," he chuckled.  "Only until we get to the dreadnought.  The squadron will meet up again there."  

"Yeah, okay.  That makes more sense."  

"Glad you agree."  

She squeezed the triggers and destroyed another TIE.  "What's our strategy?" 

"_Our_ strategy, Princess?  I didn't realize you were so well versed in combat tactics."

"You know what I meant, hotshot."  

He laughed.  "Sure.  So I figure we'll just blast our way…  Wait!"  

"What?"  

"The dreadnought's changing course and…"  His voice trailed off.  

"What is it, Han?  Tell me!"  She heard a deep sigh over the headset.  

"I have a bad feeling about this."


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Anakin surged through the raging conflict in the _Lady Vader_, blasting TIE fighters into oblivion with each turn, roll, and loop.  Scanning the battlefield in the Force, he sensed that the Republic warships were performing admirably.  Yet without a decisive action soon the larger Vyhrragian fleet would take the advantage.  He reached out into the Force, hoping for guidance.  Nothing answered.  

He lifted his left hand away from the control stick to toggle the communications frequency.  "How are you doing, Mara?"  

After a second she clicked over to the feed with him.  "Fine, Master," she said quickly, her voice filling the cockpit from the open speaker.  

"You and Luke seem to be having some success." 

"Yes, Master." 

"Is everything alright?"  

"I'm sorry, Master?"  

"It's just that usually he'd be the last person you'd be teaming with," he suggested gently.  "If you want to fly with me instead, just ask." 

She laughed lightly.  "Thanks, Master, but that won't be necessary.  At Xixus we had great…"  She paused to destroy a TIE.  "Great teamwork.  It's working well now too."  

"Very good, Mara."  He paused, deciding this was not the time for further discussion about this development.  "May the Force be with you."  

"And with you, Master."  

---

Obi-Wan had a TIE fighter on his tail.  Relying on the Force, he rolled and looped and dove to evade all of the incoming laser blasts.  Nevertheless, he couldn't seem to shake the enemy pilot.  He tried another evasive maneuver and still the TIE was locked on to him.  

A stream of bolts skimmed the rear of his X-Wing and sailed only inches over the transiparisteel cockpit canopy.  Even after dozens and dozens of combat experiences, Obi-Wan flinched.  

"Blast!  This is why I hate flying!"  

He snap-rolled in a loop to port, keeping the TIE off-balance.  He climbed away sharply from another attack, then pondered what to do next.  

Suddenly an X-Wing dove in from above, almost hit Obi-Wan's starfighter with a volley of blasts aimed at the trailing TIE, and then nearly collided with him.  As the enemy exploded, the new arrival crowed triumphantly.  

"You were starting to worry me there for a moment, Master," Luke's voice laughed in Obi-Wan's helmet.  

"Really?  I had him right where I wanted him!"  

"If you say so, Master."  

"I do say so."  Then Obi-Wan chuckled.  "Get back to work, Luke.  You have more important tasks than protecting me from my own incompetence."  

"Yes, Master."  

---

The _Hand of Justice_ swung around and opened fire on one of the Republic cruisers.  A half dozen gigantic laser blasts flew from the dreadnought's main cannons and smashed violently into the cruiser's shields.  The cruiser wobbled from the impact, then returned fire at the massive warship.  The _Hand of Justice_ unleashed another barrage, this time with several smaller guns as well.  The shields absorbed the first few shots, then collapsed.  The cruiser erupted in a massive ball of flame, lighting the battlefield with a ghastly pyrotechnic display.  

All the Jedi pilots grimaced and cringed at the huge loss of life projected into the Force.  Once again, however, they relied on their training to restore their focus and return to their duties.  

On the bridge of the _Invictus_ Admiral Mirkalla stood over the battle assessment table with great concern.  He crossed his arms over the front of his gray uniform and blew out a deep sigh before he turned over his shoulder toward the command console behind him.  "Status?" 

"One cruiser lost on each side, Admiral," an ensign explained.  

"No losses in Red Squadron," added another.  The Jedi pilots were having little difficulty flying against ordinary opponents.  

  
"Losses in Gold Squadron at ten percent," the first ensign reported.  Although Special Forces soldiers were Army units, not Navy, they nonetheless were required to be excellent pilots – their missions often required starfighter combat as well as infantry strikes or covert operations.  

"Losses in Blue and Green Squadrons about twenty percent each, Admiral, and losses to the enemy squadrons estimated at twenty-five to thirty percent."  The X-Wings and Y-Wings were inflicting more casualties than they suffered, which was an acceptable rate of attrition.  

Admiral Mirkalla knew, however, that the battle would not be decided by the starfighter dogfights.  It would be decided by the dreadnought and the destroyer.  And the dreadnought was on the move again.  

---

Han and Chewie steered the _Falcon_ into a steep dive to avoid the attacks of a trio of TIE fighters who had descended upon them without warning.  The maneuver was so sudden that neither Lando nor Leia could react in time to hit any of their opponents.  

"Cutting it pretty close there, buddy," Lando's voice chastised over the intercom.  

Chewie growled indignantly.  "What he said," Han spat.  

"If you need me to come down there and fly this baby for you…"  

"No way," Han interrupted.  "Less talk, more shooting."  

The _Falcon_ looped around and charged the three TIEs that just had attacked.  The front cannons took out one, and the two gunners got the others.  

Han shook his head in surprise.  "I'll admit it, Princess.  You're pretty good at this."  

"There's quite a bit you don't know about me, Captain," she laughed.  

"Stay sharp!" he said quickly.  "More bogies mark two-one-five." 

"Roger," Lando responded.  

"They just keep coming, don't they?" sighed Leia deeply.  

"I'm afraid so," Han admitted reluctantly.  "Hang on tight!  Here we go."  

---

Bryon stared at his forward display in consternation.  No matter how many TIEs his A-Wings killed, there seemed to be more arriving.  They were trained to deal with situations like this, but the odds seemed to be turning more and more against them with each passing minute.  

He sent a stream of orders through the microphone of his helmet.  "Gold Three, mark three-six.  Gold Four, mark two-zero-four.  Gold Five, mark one-two-five."  Wings led by Krannar, Pryzill, and Allitisi would engage the three incoming TIE fighter wings.  "Gold Two, stay with me."  His and Will Graff's wings would defend the remaining two cruisers against a swarm of TIEs that had regrouped to harass them.  

"Copy, Gold Leader," his sergeants all responded quickly.   Bryon trusted them fully and knew they were doing their best to defeat their Vyhrragian opponents.  Nonetheless, the Special Forces squadron already had suffered a high number of casualties, at least by their standards, and victory did not seem to be anywhere in sight.  

As he looped his A-Wing around on a pair of TIEs, he clicked off his comlink.  "Die!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.  One TIE exploded.  He took aim at its partner.  "You too!  Die!"  

---

Anakin swooped around a dogfight, blasted two TIEs while he passed, and brought the _Lady Vader_ into position off Obi-Wan's starboard wing.  "How are you holding up, old man?" 

"Been better, been worse."  

"Sounds about right.  I don't like the way this battle is developing."  

"Nor do I."  

"Any suggestions?"  Anakin swerved away for a moment to incinerate another TIE fighter.  

"Unfortunately, no.  Tactics have never really been my specialty."

"True."  

Obi-Wan took a deep breath before gunning down a TIE.  "I think when this is over we need to talk to our Padawans about the battle." 

"I've sensed it too."  

"They're dismissive, almost cavalier.  They don't seem to appreciate how horrible this is." 

"I agree.  Their lack of insight is disturbing."  

"Back at the Temple, then?  We'll talk to them together?" 

"Done."  Anakin sensed an exposed formation of three TIEs to the rear off his port wing.  "For someone who doesn't like flying, you've more than carried your share of the burden." 

Obi-Wan chuckled as he watched the _Lady Vader_ execute an astoundingly difficult reverse loop-and-roll to get position on the three TIEs.  "I don't mind flying, Anakin.  But what _you're_ doing…"  

"I've heard it all before, Obi-Wan.  Just be glad you're not in here with me."

"I am, my old Padawan.  I most certainly am."  

---

"One second," Luke said quickly.  He zoomed away from Mara into a steep dive, then swooped sharply to port and blasted two TIE fighters who had been chasing another X-Wing.  

"Thanks," Danaé's voice said in his helmet.  

"No problem."  Luke steered into a swift climb, arriving on Mara's wing again in time to assist her in blasting a pair of TIEs.  

"She's all grown up now, you know," Mara's voice chuckled.  "She doesn't need your help." 

"If you think I'm ever going to stop protecting my baby sister, you're crazy."  

"If I had a credit for every time you told me I was crazy…"  

He laughed.  "If I had one for every time you had to get the last word…"  

"Watch it!" she called suddenly, as a quartet of TIEs abruptly changed course and charged them.  

"On it!"  He rolled his X-Wing to avoid the incoming fire, then snapped into a loop that brought him around on their tails.  In an instant the TIEs exploded.  

As she destroyed her pair, she cursed colorfully in frustration.  Then her irate voice spoke in his helmet again.  "This is really starting to…"  

"…make me angry," he finished for her with a vicious scowl on his face.  

"We're almost to the dreadnought.  We have to do something.  Quickly."  

"I know.  But what?"  

---

"I don't like the look of this at all," Jenny frowned.  "We're outnumbered, outgunned…"  Her voice trailed off and she shook her head in dismay.  

"It looks like Red Squadron is almost to the dreadnought," Sarré commented quietly, pointing a finger tentatively toward the group of starfighters approaching the enemy's flagship in the multi-colored, three-dimensional holographic display above the battle assessment table.  "That will help." 

"I hope so," Padmé sighed.  "So many have died already.  It's such a waste."  

Sarré looked down at the floor, at a loss for words about the gravity of the loss of life so far – and the battle seemed far from over.  

Jenny looked up at Padmé with a stern gaze.  "The Republic didn't start this, Padmé.  We have to defend ourselves against this madman."  

Padmé nodded solemnly.  "I know.  But if you knew all the condolences Queen Amidala had to deliver personally when the blockade crisis ended…"  Her eyes began to well up.  "It doesn't matter that this is a just war.  Not to me.  It's still a terrible tragedy.  And this time it's not battle droids we're fighting.  Families on both sides are suffering."  She wiped her eyes to keep from crying.  "On both sides." 

They were startled by an outburst from Admiral Mirkalla on the other side of the table.  "Strengthen the shields!  All excess power to the shields!"  

Threepio, who had been uncharacteristically quiet behind them, finally reverted to his ordinary state of hysteria in such circumstances.  "Oh my!  A bombardment!  We'll all be killed!"  

Sarré whipped her head around and glared at the protocol droid with such intensity that for once he actually ceased further exclamations of their impending demise.  

Padmé was afraid to ask, but she did.  "What's happening, Admiral?" 

"The dreadnought's found it's next target," Mirkalla replied grimly.  "Us."  

---****

On the bridge of the _Hand of Justice_ the Vyhrragian general shivered when he heard the boots approaching.  Reluctantly he turned around to see a tall man in a black flight suit flanked by two shorter, identically dressed pilots.  The Sith Lord held the officer in a sinister stare while his black-gloved fingers stroked his short black goatee.  

"I have had enough of this, General," snapped Darth Nefarious.  "You will not be able to stop the Jedi."  

"My Lord, we will…"  

"You've had your chance, General."  Nefarious spun on his heel and waved to the two elite pilots with a flick of his wrist.  "Come with me."  

Outside the broad viewport of the dreadnought's bridge, the wedge-shaped fore of the flagship moved into position and began to open fire on the _Invictus_.  Blasts from the _Hand of Justice_'s large laser cannons slammed into the shields of the Republic destroyer.  Bursts of crackling energy from an ion gun also dissipated against the shields in a spectacular electric display.  The _Invictus_ returned fire, but in a contest of attrition the greater number of cannons on the _Hand of Justice_ held a distinct advantage.  

---

Danaé swooped her X-Wing around on a TIE and incinerated it with a quick squeeze of her triggers.  Artoo toodled proudly.  "Thanks, Artoo.  I guess that was a good shot."  

As the battle raged around her, however, Danaé's feelings only became increasingly troubled.  Each death, whether friend or foe, poked her mind with a sting of pain.  The number of tiny pierces she had experienced through the Force was enormous.  A quick deep breath cleared her mind a little, pushing her roiling emotions to the side temporarily.  Then she looped into position behind another TIE and braced herself for the next stab of pain to come.  

---

A wave of over twenty TIEs swarmed toward the Republic cruiser _Optimus_.  "Gold Squadron, mark two-one-zero.  Now!" ordered Bryon into his helmet's mouthpiece.  

The A-Wings raced to the defense of the cruiser, engaging the enemy fighters in teams of four.  The Vyhrragian pilots were skilled, but the Special Forces pilots were better.  Soon the number of TIEs had been cut in half.  Yet the A-Wings paid a heavy price as well, with five more of their men lost.  

Eight surviving TIEs dove away from the cruiser and looped back toward the Vyhrragian formation.  

"After them," Bryon commanded.  "Kill them!"  

The private officers' comlink clicked on.  "Bryon?" came Will Graff's voice.  "Shouldn't we let them go?"  

"You heard me," he snapped viciously.  "I want them.  Every single one." 

---

Darth Nefarious soared into the battle in his specially modified TIE fighter, the top and bottom of its solar panel wings bracketed in at angles.  Immediately he charged directly toward his hated enemies: the Jedi in Red Squadron.  

"Stay in attack formation, but give me distance," he directed his wingmen.  "Do not reveal my presence by flying too closely.  Cover me.  That is your only responsibility."

"Yes, my Lord," the two pilots replied confidently.  

With a few short dives and arcs Nefarious appeared just off the tail of an X-Wing.  The Jedi pilot tried to shake him with a series of rolls and loops, but the Sith Lord had no difficulty in matching them.  After a few more failed evasive maneuvers, Nefarious squeezed his triggers.  

---

"We've lost Red Nine," Obi-Wan reported calmly into the comlink.  He had tried to intervene, but the enemy ace had fired too quickly before swooping out of Obi-Wan's range.  Rather than attempt a pursuit he knew probably was likely to fail, he climbed away to continue to do battle with other TIEs.  

---

"Did you see which one it was?" asked Luke into his mouthpiece.  He and Mara continued to communicate on the private channel.  

"No," she responded.  "And I don't know how we'll find him in this mess."  

"Try to watch for unusual patterns in the Force, I guess."  

"Yeah."  

He swerved around and blasted a TIE.  "Mark four-five," he said quickly.  

"On it."  When she arrived seconds later, she saw the formation of a dozen TIEs he had designated for destruction.  

---

Admiral Mirkalla had begun to fidget and pace apprehensively beside the battle assessment table.  The smaller warships seemed to be holding a stalemate with their enemy counterparts, but that left the _Invictus_ on its own against the _Hand of Justice_.  This situation could not possibly lead to a favorable outcome.  

"How are the shields?" he asked the ensigns at the command console.  

"Sixty percent, Admiral," a young man replied.  "Holding for now, but weakening."  

"What can we do, Admiral?" Padmé wondered aloud, her usually level voice wobbling.  

"Nothing, I'm afraid," he sighed.  "We must have faith in Red Squadron."  

Padmé met the anxious eyes of Jenny and Sarré and tried to smile.  If their fates depended on having faith in Anakin, then it was nothing she hadn't done many times before.  

---

Darth Nefarious destroyed another X-Wing flown by a Jedi, then turned his attention to two more close by.  He focused first on the starfighter trailing to port of its lead.  The pair of Jedi rolled and dove to avoid the bursts of laser fire he sent at them, but immediately it was clear he was the superior pilot.  

Nefarious locked his targeting computer on the trailing Jedi and chuckled darkly.  "May the Force be with you," he sneered mockingly.  A squeeze of his triggers annihilated the X-Wing.  

The remaining pilot swerved sharply through the dogfights raging around them.  While not a stellar pilot, he clearly was strong in the Force.  Quite strong.  

"Who are you, I wonder?" Nefarious said aloud to himself.  After another series of rolls and loops he was in position.  "No matter.  You will die regardless."  

An instant later the X-Wing exploded in ball of flame.  

---

Jaytoo whistled a sorrowful message.    

Anakin hollered a string of ferocious Huttese curses he rarely had spoken since his childhood.  A Vyhrragian ace already had killed one quarter of his squadron.  Red Nine, Red Ten, and Red Eleven, three Padawan aces, were gone.  An even greater loss to the Order was Red Two, Master Krint, whose X-Wing had been destroyed only moments ago.  

It was not often that a member of the Jedi Council was lost in combat.  Anakin had no intention of losing any of the remaining three Council members in his squadron, or any of the other pilots for that matter.  

"Red Squadron, regroup.  Regroup," he spoke into the open comlink microphone in the cockpit of the _Lady Vader_.  "We need to stick together." 

His Force perceptions were focused and intense.  Yet the massive battle boiling around him was complex, frenetic, and utterly without organization or patterns.  As attuned as his mind was and as fiercely as he concentrated, he could not trace this particular ace's path through the battlefield – and he was confident he knew why.  The best he could do was stay with his squadron and hope the ace would make another move.  

Then Anakin would kill him.  

---

The _Falcon_ sped past a formation of TIEs on its way back to its wingmates.  Leia rocked her quad cannon around and opened fire on the enemy starfighters.  She hit one.  

This time, however, she did not feel any surge of triumph.  The extended duration of the fighting was beginning to wear on her, and the realization of how many lives she had taken today was starting to sink in.  And the isolation of the gunner pod was becoming nearly overwhelming.  It seemed like an eternity since she last had heard a voice other than those of her companions on the _Falcon_.  

"Nice shooting, Leia," Lando said over the freighter's intercom.  

"Thanks," she answered distractedly.  "Han, what's the status?  Is the battle almost over?" 

He was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time.  "Four of the Reds are gone," he finally sighed.  "Not yours, Princess," he added quickly.  "And the dreadnought is really pounding on the _Invictus_.  We've been ordered to regroup with the squadron.  Maybe there's a plan now or something."  

"I hope so," she replied.  _Otherwise the battle probably is almost over.  And we'll lose._  

"Almost… there…" Han said quietly.  

Leia's targeting computer blared a piercing alarm.  "More TIEs coming up on us!"  

---

Admiral Mirkalla's anxiety was building.  Although the tide of the battle had not yet turned against them, it also had not shifted in the Republic's favor.  And the longer the fighting continued, the more the odds favored their more numerous opponents.  

"Shields?"  

"Forty percent, Admiral," an ensign replied nervously.  

Mirkalla turned to the ensigns on the other end of the command console.  "Tell the gunners to target our fire on their front port quadrant.  See if we can drive our way through their shields if we focus our attacks."

"Right away, Admiral."  

Padmé glanced at Sarré on her left, then Jenny on her right.  They looked even more worried than she felt.  She reached out her hands, took one of each of theirs, and squeezed reassuringly.  "Anakin will think of something.  I know he will."  

---

With a satisfied smile Darth Nefarious watched the Jedi squadron fall into formation together.  His kills had caused them to stop flying alone.  

"So you have come to fear me," he chuckled.  "As well you should."  He increased his speed and set his course for the group of X-Wings bracketed by a strange starfighter and a junky freighter.  

Nefarious dialed up his targeting computer and adjusted his hands on the control stick.  He rolled his head from side to side and stretched his neck and shoulder muscles.  Then he swerved around on the Jedi formation.  For good measure he whispered one of the many incantations from his lessons.

"Fear is my ally." 

---

Luke watched in horror as the massive cannons of the _Hand of Justice_ continued to pound the faltering shields of the _Invictus_.  They did not have much more time.  While he steered his X-Wing around on another TIE he stared at the bridge tower of the _Hand of Justice_ in the distance, knowing he had to take action quickly.  He squeezed his triggers and incinerated the enemy starfighter.  

Simultaneously Arfour adjusted the shields to absorb a stray laser blast from a different dogfight.  

In that instant Luke perceived that the Force had shown him the winning strategy.  

"Mara," he said quickly into his headset, "come with me."  He concentrated and flashed her a split-second vision of his plan in the Force.  

"That just might work!"  

Luke swung his fighter into line with the _Hand of Justice_ as Mara arrived on his wing.  He clicked over to the Red Squadron frequency and addressed his father and his Master.  "No time to explain," he apologized.  "You'll just have to trust me."  Then he took a deep breath slammed the drives to top speed.  

"This is Red Five.  I'm going in!"  

---****

Watching in the Force the Padawans' blazing run toward the _Hand of Justice_, Anakin took a deep breath.  "Red Squadron, stick together," he ordered crisply.  "Let's keep the bogies off their tails."  

Luke and Mara raced forward at top speed, dodging laser blasts and swerving around other starfighter skirmishes.  Only if a TIE was directly in their path did they open fire.  They were closing distance rapidly, but perhaps not rapidly enough.  

---

On the bridge of the _Invictus_ Padmé looked sharply at Jenny.  "What's he doing?"  

Jenny shook her head.  "I don't know."  

"Whatever it is, it had better work," Padmé whispered.  

The entire bridge rocked from another bombardment from the _Hand of Justice_.  

Threepio braced himself against the table to avoid falling.  "Oh dear."  

---

Darth Nefarious immediately sensed the two Jedi break away from their squadron and charge the _Hand of Justice_.  He could not detect their precise intentions but certainly knew their purpose.  And he was not about to let them succeed, even if that meant a brief delay in killing the others.  He swerved his TIE into a steep arc and slammed his drives to full power.  With a quick check of the instruments he determined that he would cut them off well before they reached the dreadnought.  

Their X-Wings swooped and dived as if locked together in formation.  With Luke in the lead and Mara barely off his starboard wing, they surged into a mass of TIEs and blasted their way out.  Now slightly off course, they swerved again and punched the overdrives into a lurching rush at the _Hand of Justice_.  

Cloaked in the dark side of the Force, Darth Nefarious sailed through the roiling battlefield without attracting the attention of the two Jedi apprentices.  After a few more seconds a long rolling loop brought him around on the two X-Wings.  He flicked on the targeting computer to augment his Force perceptions.  After a deep breath he chuckled darkly.  "Now it ends, Jedi."  

Simultaneously they sensed the arrival on their tails.  "Where did he come from?" Mara growled.  

"I don't know," Luke replied anxiously.  "I didn't sense him either."  

"And he outmaneuvered me," she complained to herself.  "I shouldn't have been out of position."  

"What's done is done," Luke said quickly.  "Concentrate.  Follow me."  

Luke took the pair of X-Wings flying in unison into a steep dive, a sharp banking turn, and then a swift barrel roll.  When he tried to shake the TIE from them with a sudden climb, the TIE simply broke the chase to adjust its angle and cut them off.  

Darth Nefarious shouted in triumph.  He squeezed his triggers and let loose a blistering barrage of laser blasts at the trailing X-Wing.  

Mara reacted just in time to save her life.  She snap-rolled away from Luke and avoided most of the incoming fire.  But not all of it.  One shot punctured a round hole through both of her starboard S-foils, and another shattered both starboard drives.  Using the Force for strength, she pulled out of a tumble and tried to come around to Luke's aid again.  "I'm hit," she gasped through her fierce concentration, as if he wouldn't have known.  

"How is the damage?"  

"Bad."  

"Get clear, Mara," Luke ordered.  "You can't do any more good back there."  

"I'm sorry."  It was all she could think of to say as she swerved away, hoping she could make it back to the fleet with one side of her starfighter threatening to disintegrate at any moment.  

Darth Nefarious decided to the let the wounded X-Wing leave.  No doubt other TIEs would finish it off.  And in any case preventing an attack on the _Hand of Justice_ was his top priority.  He slammed his overdrive and raced up to the tail of the remaining X-Wing.  Every evasive maneuver the Jedi pilot tried, he matched easily.  "It is only a matter of time," he sneered.  "Prepare to die."  

Luke rolled and dived to avoid the incoming fire, but one blast nicked between the drives.  A mournful electronic scream filled his ears.  "I've lost Arfour," he announced into his headset.

---

"Shields down to ten percent, Admiral," reported one of the ensigns at the command console behind the battle assessment table.  

"We're doomed!" Threepio exclaimed in dismay.  

Admiral Mirkalla shook his head and gripped the edge of the table firmly.  "May the Force be with you, Red Five," he prayed under his breath.  "You're our only hope."  

A few feet away Padmé continued to hold hands with Jenny and Sarré to either side.  Their knuckles had long since gone white from the intensity of their grips.  

---

Luke concentrated as fiercely as he ever had.  He had to reach the _Hand of Justice_.  To do that he had to evade the nearly constant stream of laser blasts from the single TIE glued to his tail.  And with Mara unavailable and Arfour out of commission he now had to manually override the X-Wing's restrictions so he could carry out the entire plan himself.  Flying with his right hand, he frantically pulled wires and flipped switches with his left.  

Darth Nefarious hunched forward in his seat, his mind deeply enmeshed in the dark side of the Force.  Something had distracted the Jedi pilot.  The Sith fired again, only to see the X-Wing roll away at the last possible instant.  He stayed directly behind, preparing to fire again.  

Luke finished his improvised rewiring and took his fighter in two sharp loops.  Still the TIE followed him.  A volley of blasts sailed just over his cockpit canopy.  The _Hand of Justice_ was almost within range for his plan, and yet he was not at all confident he would live to implement it.  

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a massive field of laser fire erupted from directly above Luke and the chasing TIE.  Although the TIE pilot managed to escape destruction, he was forced to into a steep evasive arc that left him irreversibly out of position for chasing Luke.  

Over his headset Luke heard a victorious cheer.  "You're all clear, kid," Han yelled.  "Now do whatever it is you've got in mind before we're all space dust."  

"Thanks," Luke laughed.  "I owe you one."  

Without a moment's hesitation Luke steered his X-Wing into a steep dive directly at the bridge tower of the _Hand of Justice_, which rose from the surface of the massive dreadnought near the rear of the wedge-shaped warship.  

---

"He's headed for the bridge tower!" Sarré gasped in fright.  

"Is he really going to sacrifice himself to save us?" Jenny asked in shock, her face turning utterly pale.  

The ensign interrupted again.  "Shields down to two percent, Admiral."

Mirkalla looked at Padmé sadly.  

"He may have to," she whispered, a single tear tracing down her cheek.  

---

Anakin had followed the course of the Padawan's charge at the _Hand of Justice_ through the Force.  The deadly enemy ace had reappeared and nearly had killed Mara and Luke, and Anakin had no doubt it was the same pilot who had decimated his squadron.  And he also now was certain the pilot was a Sith.  

"Red Four, Red Seven, with me.  Now!" he ordered sharply.  Jaytoo whistled affirmatively when the two X-Wings arrived moments later.  

With Obi-Wan and Danaé on his wings he cut diagonally across the field of battle and arrived in perfect position just as the deadly TIE emerged from its escape arc.  "Watch my tail.  But leave him to me," he directed them.  

---

As his dive continued, Luke closed his eyes and took a very slow and deliberate deep breath.  Suddenly he remembered his promise to Master Obi-Wan after the briefing.  He didn't mean to break it.  Then he realized that maybe he hadn't broken it after all – this might be a stunt, but it was an excusable one.  The Force would guide him.  

On the bridge of the _Hand of Justice_ the Vyhrragian general panicked.  "Shields to the fore!  Shields to the fore!  Protect the bridge!  Now!"  

Sensing the emotions in the Force, his eyes still closed, Luke smiled.  

---

Anakin sensed Obi-Wan and Danaé destroy the Sith's two wingmen, who had arrived behind him in an attempt to defend their lead.  

The TIE dove and looped and swerved.  Even immersed in the dark side the Sith was no match for Anakin.  The _Lady Vader_ easily kept pace with the enemy starfighter.  

A grim scowl crossed Anakin's face and his eyes became cold.  His breathing sharpened and the strength of his grip nearly shattered the steel control stick.  "The Force is strong in this one," he whispered darkly.  

---

The lone X-Wing plunged at full power toward the bridge tower of the _Hand of Justice_.  Everyone across the battlefield who was aware of it – those on the bridges of the dreadnought and the _Invictus_ and the Jedi flowing with the Force – knew that all their fates rested on the outcome of this single action.  Each of them wondered whether the shields of the _Hand of Justice_ would hold against the suicide attacker.  

They never found out.  

With a final deep breath Luke snapped his X-Wing from its dive only a heartbeat before it would have collided with the dreadnought's shields.  In that split-second change of direction he skimmed just over the top of the bridge tower and squeezed the triggers.  

A pair of proton torpedoes burst from the tubes, followed immediately by a second pair.  The extreme heat of the unrestricted rapid firing burned the tubes, which sputtered into dysfunction before firing the third and final pair.  

Without opening his eyes Luke pulled his X-Wing into a steep climb, slammed the drives to maximum speed, and wished with all his might that his plan had worked.  

The first pair of torpedoes detonated against the shields on the rear of the bridge.  At only minimal strength because almost all power had been shifted to the fore in the attempt to repel the plummeting X-Wing, the shields collapsed under the power of the torpedoes' explosion.  

Following right behind, the second pair of torpedoes dropped directly onto the rear of the unprotected bridge tower.  

---

The massive explosion on the _Hand of Justice_ appeared over the battle assessment table.  Its light was so bright that those assembled immediately raised their eyes to the viewport to see flames erupting into space from the incinerated bridge tower at the rear of the enemy flagship.  

"Is he…" Jenny gasped.  

"He can't be…" Sarré insisted.  

"Admiral?" asked Padmé quietly.   

"Red Five, check in," Mirkalla spoke into the intercom.  "Red Five, check in."  

There was a long pause.  

A long, terrible, heart-rending pause.  

"Command, this is Red Five," came Luke's voice over the speaker.  "I got a little cooked but I'm okay."  

Mirkalla pumped his fist in victory.  

"He did it!  Master Luke did it!" shouted Threepio excitedly.  

The three women burst into tears and fell into a joyous collective embrace.

---

Obi-Wan and Danaé cleared off the few TIEs that had tried to interfere with Anakin's pursuit of the enemy ace.  They swerved to position just off his wings again.  

Anakin switched off the beeping targeting computer and drew solely upon the Force.  His eyes shut halfway in a vicious stare and he leaned back arrogantly in his seat.  When the TIE made another sharp evasive roll, Anakin countered with an even steeper roll of his own.  

"I have you now!"  

All six cannons on the _Lady Vader_ opened fire simultaneously.  

The TIE incinerated in a brilliant explosion.  

Jaytoo blooped and toodled triumphantly.  

In the Force the three Jedi sensed the piercing fire of evil that radiated from the Sith's death.  For a moment the Force was calm.  Then they felt another burst of dark side energy – a deep, vile, primal howl of rage and vengeance.  Two Sith were dead.  And yet the violent disturbance of the dark side in the Force now only had become stronger.  

Anakin extended his perceptions and determined that with the _Falcon_ providing cover, Mara had arrived safely at the _Invictus_.  

He swooped back toward the battle behind them with his old friend and his daughter on his wings.  His eyes opened fully again, his breathing slowed, his grip loosened, and his posture returned to normal.  For a moment he released the control stick to run his fingers through his hair again.  Two long, soothing breaths cleared his mind and calmed his spirit.  

---

On the bridge of the _Invictus_ Admiral Mirkalla looked out the viewport at the _Hand of Justice_.  The enormous dreadnought listed to one side, flames and debris spewing from a gaping gash in its hull at the location of its former bridge tower.  All its guns were silent.  Glancing back to the battle assessment table, he saw his destroyer moving into position against the remaining Vyhrragian warships, its shields already nearly restored and its guns unleashing a barrage at the enemy formation.  

"The gravity well is deployed, Admiral," a lieutenant announced from a side console.  "They cannot escape."  

"Very good," Mirkalla replied.  

"Admiral," the communications officer interjected, "we are receiving a transmission from one of the enemy cruisers.  And all of their vessels are broadcasting an unconditional surrender."  

"Excellent," the admiral smiled.  He spoke into the intercom again.  "Attention all units.  Cease fire.  Remain on alert.  Repeat, cease fire on alert."  

When he looked up to speak to the three women, he saw only their backs as they ran out the door on the far side of the bridge, heading toward the turbolifts to the hangar.  

"I apologize for my Mistress' rudeness," Threepio said quietly.  "This is most unlike her."

Mirkalla only laughed at the protocol droid.  


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

The young couple was alone in the small bedroom on the _Lady Vader_.  On the lower bunk opposite the open door Sarré cuddled into Bryon's lap and held him tightly around his broad chest.  His parents were in the cockpit and Leia, Danaé, and Jenny were eating lunch in the lounge.  Although they weren't bold enough to close the door, she decided it was unlikely anyone would intrude without giving warning.  Secretively she ran her hands under the shirt of his black fatigues and began to caress the bare skin of his chest.  Facing the doorway he kept his hands on the outside of her red-and-white jumpsuit as he stroked her back.  

She decided to test his resolve.  As difficult as it was to believe, it had not been even two standard days since his unprompted declaration of love in front of Padmé and Sabé and Leia and Jenny.  There had been no time to discuss it with him and to find out why he had done it – or whether perhaps he now regretted saying it publicly.  Without stopping her caresses of his wonderful muscles, she leaned in and kissed him.  She touched her lips to his gently, but instantly he deepened it very passionately.  She moaned quietly in appreciation and let herself fully enjoy his equally pleased reaction.  

They lost track of time entirely.  Eventually, though, they had to stop to catch their breaths, slow their pounding hearts, and cool their raging desires.  Sarré rested her head on his shoulder and cherished the warmth of his embrace.  From his contented sigh, she could tell Bryon relished the fact that no one had interrupted them.  

Finally she spoke.  "Bryon, I have a confession to make."  

"What's that?"  

"Promise you won't be angry."  

"I certainly will not promise that," he chuckled, "until you give me more of a hint of what it's about." 

"Fair enough," she giggled.  "It's just a silly little thing about your family, nothing major."  

"Okay.  Then I promise I won't be angry."  

"Good," she sighed thankfully.  "You know how you've been avoiding telling your parents how we feel about each other?  Until the other day, I mean?  Well, um…  See, the thing is…  I guess what I mean…"  

His voice took on the slightest inflection of agitation.  "Sarré?"  

"Um, Bryon?  I hate to tell you this, but you were wasting your time."  

He smiled warmly.  "If you mean that they guessed as much, or my father or Luke or Danaé sensed something in the Force, then I suppose I was."  He kissed her tenderly on the forehead.  

"No, it's not that," she admitted reluctantly.  

"Then what is it?"  

"Promise you won't be angry."  

"I won't be – unless you ask me to promise again!"  

"Sorry."  She kissed the side of his neck twice.  "Okay, here's the confession.  Do you remember three years ago in the Lake Country?  The very last night?  When I snuck into your room in the middle of the night?  And we just held each other and slept?  Until I got up at dawn and snuck out?"  

"How could I forget?" he marveled.  "I've never been so surprised at anything in my entire life!  In a good way, of course."  He kissed her gently.  "I've thought about it every day since then."  

For a second she was distracted.  "Every day?  Really?"  

"Well, every night, usually," he laughed.  

"Even though all we did was sleep?"  

"_Because_ all we did was sleep, I think.  It made me realize how much I love you – that just being with you and holding you was all I really needed."  

Her heart fluttered.  But she pressed ahead.  "Anyway, that morning, when I left…   Um…  See, I didn't sneak out.  Your Mom was there.  In the hallway.  She saw me leaving your room."  

The back of his head smacked into the wall when he flinched at the revelation.  "Ow!  Ow.  Ow.  Ow."  He pulled one hand from her back to rub the impact site.  "_What_ did you just say?" 

"You promised!"  

"I know, I know.  Please continue," he sighed.  

"Your Mom saw me.  So we went to the kitchen and talked."  She took a deep breath.  "I told her everything."  

His eyes suddenly became frightened.  "Define everything."

She giggled.  "Not everything-everything, silly.  Everything important.  How we felt.  How long we'd known.  And that all we'd done that night was sleep."  She looked deeply into his brown eyes.  "She understood, Bryon.  She wasn't upset or angry or anything.  The opposite.  She was happy for us.  I mean, we were only sixteen then and still that was how she felt.  Happy!" 

The wonderful sparkle in her lavender eyes broke his spirit completely.  "I was wasting my time," he said, as if trying to understand by repeating it.  "They've known for three years.  Because you told them.  You.  _You_ told them."  Then it occurred to him.  "And you waited until _now_ to tell me?"  

"There's no excuse.  I'm sorry," she apologized, her eyes welling up.  She sighed sadly.  "I cancel the promise.  If you want to be angry, go ahead."  

He laughed and shook his head.  "Thanks anyway.  I'm not angry."  He kissed her tenderly on the lips again and rubbed her back, making it last long enough to be sure she understood.  When he broke the kiss, he stared into her eyes in mock indignation.  "But Sarré, you are _so_ lucky I love you as much as I do!"  

She laughed too and kissed him.  Quickly, though, she pulled her lips away.  "I think we should go talk to them."  

"Right now?"

"Yeah.  Right now.  Just walk up to the cockpit and say it straight to their faces and get it over with."  

"Sure.  Why not?"  He realized he really meant it.  "Really?  Why not?  Yes!  Let's go."  

---

Leia felt a twinge of remorse for leaving Danaé and Jenny behind in the lounge.  Threepio was in one of his garrulous moments – one of those that even Artoo or Jaytoo could not successfully halt.  Nevertheless, the women had understood her need for a few minutes with her parents and had sent her out insistently.  

Absentmindedly she adjusted the fit of her pale green flight suit as she approached the open doorway to the cockpit, trying to figure out what she wanted to say.  Her parents would not be expecting her to come to see them now without a reason: the family already had planned to spend several secluded days at the residence when they arrived at Coruscant in about eight hours, and there would be plenty of time to talk then.  

Just before she reached the cockpit, she stopped.  Although her parents were not prone to being caught in comprising situations, Leia nonetheless had been present for more than one and accordingly decided to announce herself while she still had time to turn around.  "Mom?  Daddy?" 

"Leia!"  Her mother's voice was joyful and free.  

The visual dampeners were activated, so the viewport was a soothing swath of color instead of the nauseating streaks of lightspeed.  Her father was sitting sideways in the pilot's seat, his arm along its back.  Her mother sat in the starboard co-pilot's seat, her legs stretched out along the floor and her hands clasped behind her head.  Although he wore the typical maroon Jedi flight suit, Leia was surprised to see that her mother wore a simple short-sleeved yellow shirt and a matching skirt that stopped above her knees.  

Padmé caught the puzzlement in Leia's eyes.  "I decided on something different.  Something…  normal.  Too many flight suits and combat outfits and formal gowns lately."  

"Okay," Leia nodded, not really convinced.    

As usual Anakin tilted his head and squinted a little, quickly scanning her Force presence.  "What is it, darling?" 

Leia was so accustomed to her father's habit of beginning conversations by already knowing her mood that she didn't even perceive it happening.  "I just came to tell you that I'm okay.  We haven't had time to talk since I was rescued and I wanted to let you know that I'm fine."  

"Are you sure, dear?" her mother asked gently, lowering her hands to her lap.  "They didn't hurt you?"  

"It was tolerable.  They gave me food and water.  I didn't really get to clean up much, but that's pretty trivial really.  Doesn't violate the Convention on the Rights of Prisoners of War or anything like that."  She crossed her arms over her chest.  "And they didn't torture me."  

"I'm so relieved," Padmé sighed happily.  "I was very worried."  

Leia met her father's skeptical gaze.  She knew he would have sensed her pain in the Force.  "They interrogated me only once.  It was two Sith.  At least I assume that's what they were.  At one point the man hit me with a Force strike – you know, the kind you use against droids?"  Her father nodded.  "When it knocked me over I hit my tailbone on the floor and my head on the wall."  

Her mother gasped and reflexively pulled a hand up to her mouth.  

"No, Mom, it's not that big a deal.  I've been injured much worse wrestling with Bryon when we were kids!"  

"Okay," Padmé sighed reluctantly as she flashed a very subtle glance to Anakin.

Leia watched her father nod almost imperceptibly to indicate she was telling the truth.  Then she laughed to herself as her parents grinned at each other, wordlessly sharing memories of rushing one child or another to the infirmary after a friendly skirmish gone amok.  She gave them a moment before she cleared her throat and continued.  "I was so tired from all the stress, and then the pain was so much…  The woman Sith, she used mind tricks on me.  And I tried really hard but I just couldn't resist them.  It was all too much and…  I'm sorry."  

"There's nothing to apologize for, sweetheart," Anakin insisted.  "You realize, right, that they did all of that to you on purpose?  Made you tired, and hungry, and uncomfortable.  And then augmented it with the pain.  Even some Jedi wouldn't have been strong enough to repel a Sith mind trick at that point, Leia."  

"Really?"  

"Really.  If I truly put my full focus into it, many of the Padawans couldn't resist one from me – under _normal_ conditions.  And Sith powers are especially effective at distorting the mind.  Any Sith, even an apprentice, probably could perform a mind trick almost as compelling as mine.  And I bet you don't remember any of what they asked, do you?"  He paused while she shook her head sadly.  "That's to be expected.  The dark side can do that.  Even to Jedi."  

"I had no idea," Leia admitted quietly.  

"All I'm trying to tell you," her father said gently, "is that you didn't let me down.  You didn't let yourself down.  You did the best you could and that's all that matters."  

Leia nodded.  She wasn't quiet sure she had accepted it yet, but she knew in her heart that her father was right.  There was no reason to be ashamed or upset about what had happened.  It was the Sith's fault, not hers.  She straightened her shoulders and smiled.  "Thank you, Daddy."  

"You're welcome, Leia.  You're very welcome."  

Just then the sound of scampering feet came up the hallway and seconds later Bryon and Sarré poked their heads through the door.  

"Are we interrupting anything?" he asked, an uncharacteristically silly grin on his face.  

Quickly Leia gave her parents a little smile.  "Nope," she said.  When Bryon and Sarré stepped through the doorway holding hands in plain view, Leia surmised their purpose.  "Actually, I need to use the refresher," she lied through a laugh.  "I'll talk to you more later, okay, Mom?"  Leia left as soon as she saw the nod.  

Sarré squeezed Bryon's hand tightly.  She looked at Padmé and saw a broad smile and a twinkle in her eyes.  Anakin had the same contemplative expression as always, but at least he didn't look surprised or disconcerted.  

"Mom, Dad," Bryon started slowly, "I have something I need to say."  

Padmé continued to smile; Anakin nodded calmly.  

"I'm not going pretend that you didn't already know.  I love Sarré.  She loves me."  He seemed to straighten up, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  "We're not ready to get married yet, but we will.  Probably soon.  But not right away."  When Padmé leaned forward like she was about to speak, he pressed on doggedly.  "But you probably already knew that too.  What I need to say is this: I'm sorry I tried to hide it from you.  I'm sorry I didn't just tell you what was going on.  I'm sorry I didn't handle it very maturely."  

Anakin doubled over in laughter, which sent Padmé into a fit of laughing of her own.  

"Bryon, son, sometimes you really worry me," Anakin sputtered.  He had to pause to wipe his eyes from the tears of mirth.  "Love makes people do some pretty crazy things.  You don't even want to know some of what I did to impress your mother…  On the scale of love-induced stupidity, you're pretty much at the bottom."  

"Your father's right," Padmé giggled.  "There's nothing to apologize for.  Nothing at all."  

Sarré managed to suppress her laughing only by releasing his hand and wrapping both of her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides.  "See!  I told you!"  She looked at both Anakin and Padmé.  "I love your son.  Even when he doesn't listen to me.  I love him!"  

Within the blissful grip Bryon leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.  Leaning back up again, his face revealed his obvious amazement at the unselfconsciousness of what he had just done in front of his parents.  He squirmed his arms free and enveloped her in a close hug.  "I'm just glad you're not angry – about any of this," he said to his parents.  

"We're not," Anakin insisted.  "About any of it.  We're delighted for you."  He caught Sarré's eyes.  "For both of you.  I truly mean that."  

"The only thing that would make me angry, Bryon," Padmé teased, "would be if you eloped and I missed the wedding.  Are we clear on that?"  

"I'll keep it in mind," Bryon laughed, finally fully enjoying his newfound peace of mind.  

Sarré squeezed him tightly and pressed against him even more.  "Don't you feel much better now?"

"Yes," he sighed.  "Yes, I do."  

"Then can we have lunch?" she giggled happily.  "Because I'm _famished_!"  

"Go," the Jedi Master chuckled, waving them on with his hand.  "Eat."  

As soon as Bryon and Sarré were out of sight down the narrow cabin hallway, Anakin watched Padmé slither from her chair and slink the few short paces to stand in front of him.  "Do you remember when we were that way, Ani?" she asked deviously.  

"Like it was yesterday, angel," he smiled, reaching out in an attempt to take her hands.  

Very deliberately she refused his grasp and instead placed her hands firmly on his shoulders.  Then she climbed lustily onto the chair with him, her smoldering brown eyes exactly level with his astonished blue ones as her legs straddled his.  

"What are you doing?" he gasped.  His suddenly rapid heartbeat was thundering in his ears.  

"Reliving my youth," she grinned just before she planted a heatedly passionate kiss on his lips.  

"There's no door…  But angel…  What if…  Someone could…"  It was very difficult to speak with her mouth unrelentingly attached to his.  

She let him breathe by lavishing a series of incredibly light kisses down the side of his face and neck.  "Well…  Master Jedi…  if you're really…  as powerful…  as you claim…  I'm confident…  you can ensure…  there will be no one…  to interrupt us… this time."  

He resisted no further.  "Your wish is my command, Lady Vader."  

---****

The cockpit of the _Millennium__ Falcon_ was eerily quiet.  Zooming down the Corellian Trade Spine faster than lightspeed, the freighter was returning its crew to Coruscant for an unusually favorable meeting with the High Council of Fleet Admirals and the award of a significant commendation.  The events of recent days had left even these men stunned.  

Finally Chewie broke the silence with an amused wroofing remark.  "Yeah," Lando grinned.  "This hasn't exactly been the most relaxing leave of all time."  

"Hey, we all agreed," Han snapped.  

"Sure.  But this wasn't really what I expected."  Chewie growled an indignant affirmation.  

"Me neither, genius," Han grumbled.  "Look, we'll get these days credited.  If you want, let's just head out from Coruscant for Corellia or something.  We can still have the vacation."  

Chewie slapped Han hard on the back and chortled happily.  "I agree," Lando winked.  "I don't think I can handle any more fun either.  Seriously, let's bank the time and try again later."  

"Why do I get the feeling that whatever I suggested, you'd want the opposite?"  

"Oh, come on!  Get over yourself."  

Han turned around and shot Lando a piercing stare.  Then the trio sat in silence again for several minutes, eyes lost in the brilliant streaks of lightspeed out the front viewport.  

Lando stretched out his legs, leaned back in his seat, and clasped his hands on the back of his head.  "So, what do you think of her, Han, old buddy?"

Han knew exactly whom he meant.  "I'm trying not to." 

Lando raised his eyebrows.  "Really?"  

"No."  

"I thought so."  

Han chuckled.  "She's got a lot of spirit.  I don't know, what do you think?  Do you think a Galactic Senator and a guy like me…"

"No," Lando interrupted him with a goading laugh, which Chewie joined as he slapped Han on the back again.  

Han didn't see the humor in it.  "Is it really so hard to imagine?"  

"You can't be serious!"

"Why can't I?"  

---

To compensate for the considerably slower hyperdrives of their X-Wings, Luke and Mara had departed for Coruscant hours earlier than the _Lady__ Vader_ so they would arrive at the same time.  Obi-Wan was traveling aboard the Order's shuttle with Master Secura and her Padawan, the only survivors of the six Jedi who had come from the Temple to fly in Red Squadron.  Luke and Mara had offered to join them and have their starfighters conveyed on a Navy vessel, but Obi-Wan had declined.  So they flew alone.  

As they had on the anxious flight from Gimna 3 to Sullust less than two weeks earlier, in the Force they maintained a thin link between their minds.  

Luke held his eyes closed and sighed deeply.  _If you want to spar…_

_No thanks,_ she sent back, her thoughts filled with resignation.  _Right now it just seems…_

_I know_, he agreed.  _Sure puts life in perspective, doesn't it?_

_Yeah._

He didn't know what else to say, so he sat in silence, mulling over all the issues on his mind: his training, his performance at Xixus and in the battle, his emotions about those events and about the various women in his life, and mostly his own notable lack of serenity at the moment.  

_What's come over you, Luke?  You're starting to worry me. _ Her tone clearly indicated that she hadn't determined to what she should attribute his profound unease.  

_That makes a change._

The reply snapped into his mind like the crack of a whip.  _I thought we resolved this at Xixus._

He flinched at her harsh rebuke.  _I'm sorry.  You're right._

_Then what's bothering you?_

_A lot of things_, he sent sadly_.  _

_Really, Skywalker, enough with the melodrama.__  It doesn't suit you._

Luke chuckled.  _I suppose not._  He took a few deliberate breaths and adjusted himself in his seat to get more comfortable.  _You're ready for the Trials, you know._

A burst of surprise radiated back from Mara through the Force.  _I appreciate your support, but until you get a vote on the Council, it doesn't do me much good._

_Until?_

_Oh, I'm confident you'll be on the Council eventually.  Well after me, of course, but eventually._

_Nice_, he laughed.  _But I noticed you didn't deny it._

She laughed too, not concealing very well her amusement that he had not yet called her bluff for failing to return the compliment.  _Hey, if you're willing to say something like that, I'm not going to interfere._

_Very noble of you._

_That's what friends are for._

---

From his Force perceptions Anakin knew she would be there when he waved open the refresher door and stepped into the cramped bedroom of the _Lady Vader._  She was sitting on the upper bunk on the right, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.  And her feelings were tremendously unsettled. 

"Anakin," Jenny said quietly as she tipped her head toward him with a forced smile on her face.  

"Jenny," he reciprocally tipped his head while he strode through the small room.  Then he paused in the doorway and turned back.  "I don't have anywhere I need to be…"  He let his voice trail off as their eyes met.  

She shook her head.  "This is something I need to figure out on my own."  

He nodded understandingly.  "If you change your mind, just ask."  

"Thanks," she smiled genuinely.  

Anakin arrived in the cockpit to find Sarré leaning against the starboard console, her lower back propped against her hands.  Immediately he could tell she was waiting for him.  Before either of them could speak, however, Jaytoo warbled a happy burst of toodles and whistles from his station.  Anakin laughed.  "Sure, shut down if you like.  I won't need you for the next few hours."  Jaytoo whistled and beeped again.  "Of course!  I'd forgotten you'd won the wager with Artoo.  I'll be sure they don't disturb you."  Jaytoo blooped again and then quickly deactivated.  

Anakin looked to Sarré.  "Sorry about that."  

"Sure," she shrugged.  Her eyes found a particularly interesting spot on the floor.  

Anakin paced over to the port co-pilot's chair, sat down, and clasped his hands over his abdomen.  "You wanted to talk to me about something?"  

Without lifting her eyes, Sarré nodded.  "I wanted to thank you."  

"For?" 

She raised her eyes and met his.  "Getting Leia."  

He smiled.  "You're welcome."  

Sarré shivered a little.  "I was so scared they…  That she wouldn't make it back."  

"I know," he nodded, his voice calm and gentle.  "We all were."  

"How do I…  I mean, what can I…"  She paused, looking down at the floor again.  "I need to get past this, but I'm really having trouble.  What should I do?"  

"Release your feelings.  Acknowledge them.  Admit you feel them.  And then move on.  Leia's here with us.  The danger has passed for now.  Tell yourself there's no reason to be scared any more, and sooner or later your mind will accept it."  

"You make it sound so easy."  

He chuckled.  "I suppose I have had a lot of experience with these sorts of situations."  

She finally laughed lightly too.  "Yeah."  She pushed off her hands from the console and headed toward the open doorway to the cabin hallway.  "Thanks."  

"Of course," he smiled.  Then he spoke again quickly.  "Before you go, let me tell you a secret."  

She turned back to face him.  "What's that?"

"When I need to clear my feelings, I just think about Padmé," he winked.  

Clearly incredulous about how lucky she was, she grinned broadly and didn't even try to fight back the blushing of her cheeks.  

---

Happy laughter rose from the four individuals seated around the small table in the lounge of the _Lady__ Vader_.  Moments earlier Threepio had departed the room with Artoo.  The protocol droid was prattling excitedly about some technological wonder or another contained in one of the starship's storage rooms that he was about to demonstrate to the astromech.  On his way out Artoo had blooped and whimpered forlornly, which all of them found immensely entertaining.  

Danaé translated for the others.  "He said he lost a wager with Jaytoo.  And if we ever see him doing that again, to give him a complete memory wipe!"  

"After all he's done for me, there is no way I'm going to do that," Padmé declared as she laughed even harder, slapping a hand on the table heartily.  "He'll just have to learn to control himself."  

"Or at least play for less painful stakes," Leia chuckled.  

"Or hold out for more favorable odds," Bryon added with great amusement, reaching for his bottle of brightly colored juice.  He used the opportunity to take a long, slow drink as a way to regain his composure somewhat, and the others did the same.  

He sat in the only chair that faced the open doorway to the cabin hallway.  With his intense Special Forces training he was able to monitor the portal without appearing to, and his highly developed patience allowed him to endure the wait with little discomfort.  Then, just as he had expected, from the corner of his eye he saw four small fingertips silently wrap themselves around the top edge of the left side of the doorframe; almost as suddenly they immediately disappeared.  His finely honed ability to remain cool under pressure, which failed only when he purposely relinquished it, ensured that none of the others – even Danaé – caught the bursting joy inside of him at Sarré's very familiar signal.  

Bryon stretched his arms to the sides, then up in the air.  "I'm still pretty exhausted," he sighed loudly.  "It's been a tough few weeks.  I'm going to go take a nap."  

"Be quiet when you go in," Padmé reminded him.  "Jenny's probably sleeping, or at least trying to."  

"Sure," he nodded, rising from his chair and depositing his empty juice bottle in the cleaner unit.  On his way out he turned back and smiled.  "Have fun."  

"What has Jenny so shaken?" asked Leia quietly after he was gone.  "Did something happen?"

Padmé wished she knew, but she long ago had learned not to press her friend for details when Jenny was upset; she would have to wait until later to find out more.  She only shook her head.  "No.  She wouldn't tell me much, but it's something personal.  Something that's making her very happy and very uncomfortable at the same time."  

Danaé laughed.  "Isn't it obvious?"  Padmé and Leia looked at her quizzically.  "She's in love with someone she doesn't want to be in love with."  

Padmé tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.  It was amazing how sometimes the most obvious explanation was the hardest to see.  "I hadn't even thought of that.  But it would make sense." 

"Okay," Leia agreed with a frown of consternation on her face.  "But with whom?"  

"I have my guess," Danaé admitted.  "And I'm not going to say," she added immediately, very sternly.  She paused, meeting the still-confused gazes of her mother and sister.  "If you think about the possibilities, there's only one man it could be."  

Leia shrugged.  Then she looked up toward the open doorway, smiled devilishly, and chuckled.  "Bryon sure fooled us, didn't he?" 

Now Danaé was the one who looked befuddled.  "How?"

"He's not the least bit tired.  But he's taking a 'nap' right now with Sarré in the bunks."  

Padmé shook her head in bemused agreement – Leia was right.  Sarré was long overdue to return from talking to Anakin in the cockpit, and that certainly would explain her son's sudden exit.  "I never should have let him join the Special Forces," she sighed in mock indignation.  "It's bad enough my two Jedi can shield their feelings from me," she winked at Danaé, who was blushing terribly at Leia's salacious tone, "but I've got a professional politician and a covert ops specialist too.  It's a wonder I was able to raise any of you at all!"  

Leia nodded.  "And I pushed all the limits, didn't I?"  

"Yes, dear, you certainly did.  Every single one."  

"Don't worry, Mom," she smiled.  "Someday my children will pay me back two-fold, I'm sure."

"It will be well deserved," Danaé jibed.  

"Actually, I wanted to talk to Daddy a little more about something," Leia conspicuously changed the subject.  "If you don't mind."  

With a gentle wave of her hand Padmé sent her eldest daughter on her way to the cockpit.  Then she turned to face the younger one.  "Do you have a plan for when you return to the Temple?"  

"Not a final one.  I'm still thinking about the options," Danaé replied softly, looking down at the toes of her boots and plucking nervously at the folds of her Jedi robes.  

"I know how upset you are about Oga," Padmé said tenderly, "but I don't think it's a good idea for you to continue your training like this.  You need stability.  A schedule and consistency.  You have enough on your mind as it is, without having this lack of routine disrupting everything."  

"That's true," Danaé nodded, still not meeting her mother's eyes.  "But I just don't…  None of the possibilities are really…"  She sighed deeply and looked up.  "I have to make peace with Oga being gone first, is all."  

Padmé nodded too as she reached across the small table to take Danaé's hands in hers.  "I know.  And you have to do that in your own time, or you won't really be accepting of it."  

Danaé smiled sadly, pulling one hand away to wipe her eyes.  "Thanks, Mom."  


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

The Skywalker residence on Coruscant was a massive penthouse atop a towering skyscraper a short speeder ride from both the Senate complex and the Jedi Temple.  In addition to the spacious master bedroom suite, there were seven guest bedrooms, an elegant dining room just off the restaurant-quality kitchen, a formal sitting room for receiving guests, a library that was Padmé's favorite space to think and write, a soundproofed and windowless meditation chamber, a broad outdoor terrace with a sweeping vista of the cityscape, and a large informally appointed salon where the family could gather and relax.  

Several hours ago the entire clan had returned to the residence in secret.  Their concealed, secured docking bay in the building held the _Lady Vader_ and Luke's and Mara's Jedi X-Wings.  In two or three days they would return to their public lives, but for now the family needed time in private to revel in each other's company and contemplate the events of the past few weeks.  

Sarré sat in Bryon's lap on a plush sofa in the salon, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his hands slowly rubbing her back.  Having confessed their love to his parents, they no longer felt any need to hide their affection from the others.  The warm glow of early evening filled the room through the long window on the far wall.  

The salon door swished open and Leia and Luke stepped inside.  Although he now wore his Jedi robes, she still had not changed out of her pale green flight suit.  After escorting her into the salon, Luke flashed Bryon an impish wink and headed out again.  Leia strode directly to them and sat down on the very edge of the deep, comfortable plush chair that faced Sarré.  Still without speaking, she passed Sarré a palm-sized folder.  

"What is this?" Sarré asked quietly.  For some reason she was reluctant to open the two thin sides.  

"A gift," Leia said simply.  "Not for anything in particular.  Just a gift."  

Sarré used her thumb to spread open the folder.  In the left pocket was a credit chip embossed with the logo of the Sleeping Bantha, one of the fanciest restaurants on all of Coruscant.  In the right pocket was an access card for the Chancellor's Arms hotel, the most expensive on the planet; in the space for the room was the number 1138 in Leia's script.  

Over Sarré's shoulder Bryon could see what was inside.  "Why…  I don't…  We can't accept this," he mumbled in consternation.  

Leia stood up and tried her best to glower down at them, except she barely was taller than Bryon's eye level.  "It is not up for debate," she declared in her most imperious Senatorial tone.  "Have dinner and have some privacy."  She reached out and put a hand on each of their shoulders, letting her voice become gentle again.  "A friend did this for me once, when she realized how deeply I cared for Jarren.  Think of this as my way of returning the favor.  I know you will not insult me by refusing."  

"No," Bryon shook his head apologetically.  "I'm sorry."  

Leia tugged at their shoulders.  "Go.  Now.  Get out of here.  I didn't spend the last two hours setting this up and dragging Luke around with me to have this not happen.  I don't know what Mom and Daddy have planned for tonight, and it might be something you couldn't get out of, so I want you gone before they find out."  Then she winked.  "And be sure not to eat too much at dinner or it might interfere with your… evening." 

"Yes, Senator Organa, of course," Bryon replied in mock deference with a broad grin while Sarré climbed to her feet.  "I need to change into something more formal and grab my overnight bag," he announced, heading toward the door.  

"Me too," Sarré laughed.  "I'll meet you at the main door in half an hour."  She gave Leia a long, warm hug.  After Bryon was gone, she looked into Leia's eyes.  "Who did this for you?  I have to know." 

"Okay, but if you ever tell my parents, I'll kill you."  She held Sarré's gaze firmly.  "Seriously.  I will kill you."  

"Sure," Sarré nodded, a little taken aback by Leia's insistence.  

Leia kissed Sarré lightly on the cheek.  "Your mother," she whispered softly in her ear.   

---

While she waited for Anakin to finish in the refresher, Padmé lay on her back and examined yet again the elaborately carved designs in the wooden beams running across their bedroom ceiling.  Images and motifs, plants and animals, symbols and emblems representing Tatooine and Naboo were spread throughout the deep shadows of the room.  She already had pulled the drapes over the windows and dimmed the lights, so she barely could see.  Nevertheless, her eyes had no trouble finding the object of her attention: in the center of the room, hidden among the carved vines and flowers, were the stylized faces of four tiny angels.  

Padmé took a deep breath and sighed.  She and Anakin hadn't even realized that Bryon and Sarré were gone until just before dinner, when Leia had informed them with much delight of her gift to the pair.  Leia had been a little relieved, it seemed, to discover that they were not upset with her.  

Now, here, lying in bed, it finally hit home to Padmé that all her children really had grown up.  Luke and Danaé had lived primarily in their rooms at the Jedi Temple for many years, but they came by the residence so often that their aging and maturation seemed as imperceptible as Leia's and Bryon's.  Even Leia's election to the Senate and marriage to Jarren Organa somehow had not fazed Padmé, probably because she remembered so clearly how young she had been when she had done the same – and since Jarren's murder Leia had been living at the residence again, as she had for all but that single year of her life.  Tonight, though, Padmé had been forced definitively to confront the depth of Bryon's feelings for Sarré and the inevitable consequences to follow: someday in the near future her youngest child would get married and find a home of his own.  Accepting Bryon's adulthood compelled her to see it in her other children too, and suddenly she felt an immense void beginning to form in her spirit.  

Her awful contemplations fortuitously were interrupted when the refresher door slid open and Anakin emerged.  Dressed only in his blue sleepshorts, he strode to the edge of the gigantic bed.  He took a long, deep breath and ran his fingers through his short gray hair.  

Padmé smiled.  Although he never would admit it aloud, she knew full well he relished her watching him.  She thought it a bit unseemly for a Jedi Master to preen like some kind of ostentatious wildfowl – but she wasn't about to stop him.  

Anakin climbed into the bed and slid between the sheets across the distance to her.  He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head next to hers on the pillow.  "What's troubling you, angel?" he whispered.  

"I'm just…  It's nothing."  She tipped her face over and kissed him tenderly.  "I'm going to miss having Bryon around."  

He chuckled and smiled.  "First of all, with his missions he's hardly here as it is.  And besides, it's not like the wedding is tomorrow."  

"I know," she conceded.  "Still, tonight just really made me realize that our children have become adults.  They have their own lives, and most of what they do we only hear about, if they even remember to tell us."  She wiped her eyes.  "How did they grow up so quickly?"  

He shook his head and kissed her bare shoulder.  "Not even Master Yoda can answer a question like that."  He squeezed her tightly against him.  Then he laughed lightly, like he always did right before he intended to distract her from her thoughts and brighten her spirit.  "Do you remember the incident on Alderaan?"  

She started to laugh too.  "How could I forget?  We went to visit Bail and his family, and left Jenny behind so she could finally have some peace and quiet."  

"Not one of our better decisions."

"Nope."  

He smiled.  "The twins were what, about three?"  

"Four, actually.  Danaé had just turned two, and Bryon was eight months." 

"Right.  Of course."  He unconsciously ran his fingers through the long locks of brown hair that trailed down over her shoulders and disappeared beneath the sheets.  Still laughing, he began to describe the memories.  "We were walking to the zoo to show them the native animals when the assassins attacked."  

"Yeah."  Even though attempt on their lives nearly had been successful, she continued laughing too.  "Bryon was asleep against my chest in the sling until the shots woke him up and he started shrieking in my ear.  Then Danaé panicked and was screaming too.  I was trying to get my pistol from the holster while I scooped her up with my other arm.  I don't know how I did that."

He shook his head.  "I knew their bolts were flying right at me, and I've got a twin in each hand.  I couldn't let go because I didn't know if they'd run, but I needed my lightsaber right away.  Somehow I managed to fling Leia up on my back and grab Luke up under my left arm so I could get the saber in my right hand to block the shots in time.  She was grabbing me around the neck so tightly I almost couldn't breathe, and I was carrying him like a sack of shuura fruit."  

Padmé was laughing so hard now she almost couldn't speak.  "It wasn't exactly our most graceful hour."  

"No," he said, equally full of glee.  "To this day I can't remember all the details of it, but we started running down the street, these men chasing after us and shooting."  

"We each had a child under one arm, I was practically deaf, and you were choking."  

"But you were taking shots at them, and I was deflecting theirs away, and back at them when I could."  

She rolled over to face him and leaned her head against her propped up hand.  "It all happened so fast we didn't even have time to hit the panic button, did we?"

"No.  Not like either of us had a free hand!"  

"Very true."  

He snuck one arm over her shoulder and pulled her against him.  "We were running down the street, trying to carry all four of them at once.  We must have looked ridiculous."

"I don't think there's any question about that."  

"And yet somehow you shot four of them, and I hit two with deflections, and that was it."  

"It was pretty amazing.  I don't think we could duplicate it if we tried a hundred times."  

"Probably not."  Then he grinned mischievously.  "You know what?  I should add that as an exercise in the Trials!  Send the Padawan into an arena with a charge and four younglings to protect, and have them get attacked, and see if they can get out of it."  

Without warning she rolled the rest of the way on top of him and pinned him firmly to the bed, snapping her hands around his wrists and slamming them down just next to his head.  "That's too cruel.  Promise me you won't."  

He raised his eyebrows at her sudden aggressiveness and flashed her a lopsided grin.  "I promise.  Well, at least not until after Mara, Luke, and Danaé get through them."  

"Good enough for me."  She released his hands and let him envelope her in a warm embrace.  While leaning down to kiss him passionately, she extended one hand up a bit to wave off the lights, plunging the bedroom into total darkness.  Then she broke the kiss and whispered seductively in his ear.  "You know, Ani, I bet we _could_ replicate our other amazing feat from that trip to Alderaan…"  

---

Sitting at the breakfast table in the kitchen with warm sunlight streaming in the wide windows to illuminate the room brightly, Luke and Danaé stopped their conversation in mid-sentence and their eyes met.  Luke raised his eyebrows; Danaé nodded and giggled lightly.  A moment later Bryon and Sarré walked hand-in-hand through the arching doorway, giddy with laughter and finishing up a conversation that seemed to have something to do with a recently concluded holographic transmission with her sister Nalé.  

When Danaé winked and blushed a little, Luke decided it would be better not to ask.  

Bryon stopped at the counter and pulled down two goblets from a cabinet.  "Isn't it a little late to be having breakfast?" he asked teasingly.  

Danaé turned over her shoulder and grinned.  "Jedi prerogative."  

Luke chuckled.  "Plus, we're actually ahead of schedule.  Mom and Dad aren't up yet."  

"Really?"  Bryon was clearly stunned.  Usually their parents were the first ones to rise in the morning, often before dawn.  Right now, though, it was already well into mid-morning.  "Did you check on them?  Are they okay?" 

Danaé laughed happily.  "They're fine."  She met eyes with Sarré.  "From the way Mom's voice sounded, I don't think they slept much last night."  

Bryon had his back to them while he filled the goblets with water from a pitcher, so he couldn't see Sarré's face.  She quickly winked at Danaé in a way that unmistakably said, _Neither did we._  

Luke caught the wink, but he already had sensed the meaning clearly anyway – there was a distinctly blissful glow permeating both Sarré's and Bryon's auras in the Force.  When his brother turned around, he indicated his nearly empty bowl of sliced shuura fruit.  "Did you eat?"  

"Yeah," Bryon nodded as he passed one goblet to Sarré.  "We had room service."  

Danaé laughed.  "I didn't realize Leia is such a big spender." 

"Oh my, yes," Sarré smiled.  "I have to keep an eye on her constantly when we're on an official travel budget.  She tends to forget what's covered and what's not."  

"That sounds about right," Luke chuckled.  

"Is she here?" Sarré asked.  

"No.  She left a note that she and Mara went shopping," Danaé explained.  "For what, I don't know."  

"Clothes," Bryon and Luke said simultaneously, prompting Danaé and Sarré to shoot them stern stares for their crass assumption.

Luke burst out laughing.  "Name me even _one_ other thing she shops for herself!"  While he waited for a response, he rose from his chair and added his bowl and goblet to the cleaner unit.  

"Okay, how about…  No…  Wait, I know…  Never mind…  Let's see…"  Finally Sarré threw up her hands and looked to Danaé, who simply shrugged.  

"She really is predictable sometimes," Bryon kidded while he offered his open palm to Luke, who slapped it victoriously, then turned his open for Bryon's reciprocal slap.  

When Danaé finished adding her items to the cleaner as well, Luke smiled.  "So, it looks like it's just us.  Let's go do something fun.  Any suggestions?"

---****

For the first time in a long while the six women ate dinner together on the broad terrace of the Skywalker residence in the soothing glow of the setting sun.  Fresh salad and vegetables complemented shaak steaks and fine fruit wine from Naboo.  Most of all, though, they enjoyed the company and conversation.  

"So, Leia," Danaé teased, "you've had remarkable composure in not telling us yet about the clothes you bought today.  Don't hold back any longer on our account."  

When the laughter at her expense subsided, Leia took a long swig of wine.  "Nothing special actually.  Just some new gowns and dresses.  A few tailored suits.  That's about it."

"Before you ask," Mara interjected, "that's the truth.  She was very restrained by her standards." 

"Then why go today?" asked Jenny quietly.  

"Because I bought colors," Leia answered calmly.  "And I wanted to get them right away."  

"Colors?" Sarré wondered aloud.  

"So that means you're…"  Padmé looked closely at her eldest daughter's face.  

"Yes," Leia nodded.  "I'm not going to wear black anymore.  My period of mourning is over.  It's time for me to move on."  

"Good for you," Danaé smiled.  "That's great," Sarré chimed in.  "Really great," Jenny added.  

"I'm proud of you, honey," Padmé said gently.  "I think it's the right decision."  She took another sip of wine.  "I suppose you had a lot of time to think while you were being held?"  

Leia didn't want to lie.  She and Mara had discussed her decision for hours earlier in the day, and most of it had involved things she couldn't have known about during her captivity.  After a moment's pause, however, she concluded that telling the truth – if not the whole truth – would satisfy her sense of morals for now.  "I did." 

Mara hastily changed the subject.  "Leia mentioned that you have a meeting with the Supreme Chancellor the day after next, Padmé.  Do you know what it's for?" 

"I have an idea, but I'm not certain," Padmé replied evasively.  

"Save the humility for another crowd, Padmé," Jenny chided her.  "The bill to create the Senators-at-Large seats is going to pass," she told the others with a broad grin.  "It's a lock.  And Trellem's going to offer her one of the positions."  

A hearty chorus of congratulations rose from around the table.  In the midst of the tumult Leia caught Mara's eyes and quickly mouthed her two words: _Thank you._  Mara simply nodded.  

"You're going to accept, aren't you, Mom?"  Danaé's tone of voice was quite insistent.  

"You know what we think," Leia said, indicating Sarré with a tip of her head.  

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Padmé said resolutely.  

"See!  Listen to yourself!" Leia exclaimed excitedly.  "Already giving us perfect politician's answers!"  

"Now wait just one minute," Padmé demanded in mock outrage.  "Give me a chance to explain…"

---

While the women ate their elegant meal on the terrace, the men lounged ungracefully in the salon.  Obi-Wan reluctantly had been unable to get away from the Temple, so to avoid the feeling of being grossly outnumbered they had invited the droids to join them.  With the wide viewscreen projecting images of a particularly vicious Podrace on Malastare, they had pulled plush chairs around a long, low table.  Half of the table was devoted to the cards and multicolored chips of their sabaac game; the other half held a pitcher and three mugs of Alderaanian ale and numerous small and large bowls filled with various unhealthy but exceedingly tasty snacks and desserts.  When the latest hand of the game ended, a roar of laughter went up as Jaytoo's repair arm reached out to scoop the pile of tiny discs toward him.  

"This isn't fair!" Bryon complained.  "I don't stand a chance." 

"Master Bryon, the rules have been scrupulously followed," Threepio insisted.  The protocol droid did not play hands himself, but he sat with Artoo and kibitzed constantly.  "Your odds of prevailing in any given hand are the same as anyone else's."  

Bryon shook his head.  "That's not what I meant.  These two," he glared at his father and brother, "can see through any bluff."  Then he motioned to the two astromechs.  "And these two are counting cards."  Artoo and Jaytoo bleeped indignantly.  "Don't deny it!  I know you are!"  

"This isn't real money, Bryon," Luke teased.  Then he flicked his wrist and sent a small morsel of fried dough zipping from a bowl straight toward his mouth.  The powdered ball abruptly stopped in mid-air, then flew back into the bowl again.  Luke didn't even have to look up to feel the sting of his father's disapproving gaze.  Muttering gibberish under his breath he leaned over from his chair to retrieve the food by hand.  

"If you're not having fun, we can stop," Anakin said calmly to Bryon without acknowledging Luke's compliance.  

"No, no.  It's fine."  Bryon reached for his mug, drained its entire contents in one long gulp, and smacked it down again determinedly on the table.  "I'm just enjoying pointing out my complete and total disadvantage, that's all."  

Anakin chuckled happily while he refilled Bryon's mug from the pitcher.  "Very well."  When he set the pitcher down again he looked up.  "Where do we stand, Threepio?"   

"Master Anakin has won four hands, Master Luke three, and Master Bryon none.  Artoo has won three and Jaytoo two.  The hands have had wagers of different values, of course, so in fact the distribution of chips does not correspond to the number of hands won.  You see…"  

"Thank you, Threepio," Anakin interrupted.  "The piles are evidence enough."  The three humans were being trounced by the two astromechs.  

"Look, look," Luke said suddenly, pointing to the viewscreen.  "Watch the move this Dug just made!"  

Anakin and Bryon looked up to see the replay while Artoo and Jaytoo spun their domes around.  The spectacular swerve and dive was quite skillful indeed, eliciting impressed bloops and whistles from the droids and murmurs of appreciation from the men.  

"Did you say that was the Dug?" asked Anakin.  

"Yeah," Luke nodded.  

"No wonder, then," Anakin winked.  "It runs in his family.  Back on Tatooine I used to race against his uncle." 

"Oh, right," Bryon laughed.  "I'd almost forgotten.  What was that old cheater's name, anyway?"  
Anakin smirked.  "Sebulba." 

---

Just before bedtime, on her way to meet Anakin in the kitchen, Padmé noticed Luke standing alone on the terrace, looking out into the darkened skies of early night.  In his slumped posture she could read feelings of dejection.  Quietly she stepped out onto the terrace and paced over next to him, pulling her fluffy red robe tighter over her matching nightgown to ward off the brisk evening wind.  

"I'm fine, Mom," he insisted unconvincingly without turning to face her.  Despite wearing only a sleeveless shirt and sleepshorts, he did not seem at all affected by the chilly air.  

"If you don't want to tell me what's upsetting you, you don't have to," she said gently.  

"I just…  It's not…"  He took a deep breath and sighed.  "I'm more disappointed in myself than anything else," he finally admitted calmly.  "I should have been more careful with…  And now I'm paying the price."  

Padmé decided to change the subject.  "Whatever this is about, Luke, you have quite a bit to be proud of.  You saved all of us in the battle.  If you hadn't destroyed the bridge on the dreadnought, the results would have been truly tragic for the Republic.  And for us."  

"I know."

"And you did well at Xixus.  You got Leia out, and you saved Obi-Wan's life.  That's something…"  

"No!" he cut her off sharply.  "I disobeyed my orders.  I should have done my duty like Mara did.  Instead I almost got us both killed."  

"But you didn't," she persisted.  "You defeated a Sith, Luke."

"Only because Dad told me what to do.  If he hadn't been there, I'd be dead.  And so would Master Obi-Wan."  

"You can't know that."  

Luke finally turned to the side and looked her in the eyes.  "I understand what you're trying to do, Mom, okay?  But the Council won't see it that way, and neither will Master Obi-Wan.  And most importantly, I don't.  I should have done my duty."  

Padmé smiled tenderly.  "You did."  She could see from his face that he didn't understand.  "Luke, I may not be a Jedi Master, but this much I know.  Sometimes there are duties greater than the Jedi Code, or your Master's orders.  Sometimes you have to do what you know is right, even if it's contrary to the rules."  

He shook his head.  "The ends don't justify the means.  You of all people should know that." 

"That's not what I said, Luke," she explained reassuringly.  "There are times in life when the ends themselves are in conflict.  When we must choose which end we are going to pursue at the expense of the other.  If we're lucky, when it's all over there's no harm done, like the outcome on Xixus.  Or the way the Jedi have accepted your father's love for me."  She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.  "If you always fight for what you believe in, then even the greatest sacrifices are worthwhile."  

He nodded slowly, then turned to stare aimlessly into the cityscape again.  "I guess so."  

After a final reassuring pat on his shoulder she walked away and left her son alone with his thoughts.  

---

Anakin was waiting for her at the small table in the kitchen when she arrived.  Wrapped in his white fluffy robe, he had poured two goblets of juice from a carafe.  He was leaning forward on his elbows, a glimmer of impatience in his eyes.  

"I saw Luke on the terrace," Padmé said softly as she took the seat opposite him.  "He looked upset so I went out with him for a few minutes."  

He nodded acceptingly and took a long drink from his goblet.  "There's something we need to talk about."  

This was unexpected, and she met his gaze in surprise.  "What's that?"  

He proceeded cautiously.  "Assume for the moment you are offered and accept the Senator-at-Large seat."  

Taking a long drink from her goblet too, she smiled; his apprentice apparently had informed him of her belligerence over dinner.  "Sure."  

Unconsciously the fingers of his right hand had begun spinning around and around the golden wedding band encircling his left ring finger.  "So…  I guess…"  

She could tell he was steeling himself for a question he did not want to ask.  "What is it, Ani?"  

When he spoke again his voice was filled with reluctance and dismay.  "You'll be Senator Amidala again, I suppose?"  

Suddenly it was perfectly clear.  He no longer was as overtly protective and possessive as he had been when they first were married, but deep down inside his soul he still clung to her with a visceral ferocity, as if his very existence depended on it.  And now the most open and prominent display of that bond could be torn from him in a single swift cleave.  All these years she had been Padmé Skywalker – and somehow to him Padmé Amidala simply was not the same.  

Padmé finished off her juice, then smiled.  "No, I won't."  

Anakin's face lit up in undisguised joy.  "Really?  But what about…"

She laughed lightly.  "I already talked to Leia.  She is ending her period of mourning, but she's not changing her name.  She's still going to be Senator Organa.  It just feels right to her; she couldn't explain it but it's what she wants to do."  She reached across the table and took one of his hands, stopping his fidgeting with his ring.  "I will be Senator Skywalker, Anakin."  

He squeezed her hand gently, having managed to wipe the huge grin off his face.  "I'm so glad," he admitted shyly.  

She nodded simply and tried to hide her own feelings.  It was odd and a bit discomforting, but she was very pleased that he had reacted this way.  She liked that he wanted to claim her as his for everyone in the galaxy to see.  It made her feel proud and joyous and loved all over again.  

And yet she also had a topic on her mind that she needed to talk about.  "Can I ask you about something too, Ani?"

"Of course, angel," he nodded.  With his free hand he lifted the carafe and refilled both of their goblets with juice.  The soft clink of the ice cubes against the glass of the carafe and the goblets was strangely pleasant and soothing.  When the carafe returned to the table and the musical clinking ceased, he met her eyes again.  

"The last few days, with everything that has happened," she began in a barely audible whisper, "I just keep having this empty feeling inside, like something is missing.  I couldn't figure out what it was until tonight at dinner, when Leia was talking about getting past her grief for Jarren."  She took a drink and sat in silence. 

"Go on, angel," he encouraged tenderly.  

She realized she couldn't say it sitting so far from him, as if somehow the small table had become a great chasm.  So she rose to her feet, walked the few short paces, and climbed into his lap.  Her feet hung over his right leg as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  Finally at ease in his soothing embrace she forced the words from her mouth, despite her reluctance to admit them aloud.  "I thought we would be grandparents by now."

Anakin pulled her closer against his chest and nodded for her to continue.  

Padmé took a deep breath.  With her hands behind his neck, now she was the one restlessly twirling her wedding band.  "Leia and Jarren were going to start trying and…  Until…  And now…"  

"I know."  He closed his eyes for his own reasons and kissed her very gently on the lips.  "I know how much you are looking forward to it."  

"You probably think I'm crazy," she chuckled.  

"Not for this reason," he laughed.  She shot him a falsely stern glare, but he only rubbed her back through the robe and continued the teasing.  "To be fair," he pointed out with a wink, "we were pretty young when we got married.  And we didn't exactly waste any time in starting a family."  

She giggled contentedly and nuzzled into his neck, her hands finding peace again on his shoulders.  "That's true.  And I suppose I can't really expect them all to have the same wonderful destiny in love that we had."  

"That's very generous of you," he smiled, kissing her on the forehead.  

"Except for Bryon and Sarré!  What _are_ they waiting for?"  She took a deep breath when she realized how foolish she sounded.  "It's so selfish of me," she admitted, "but I just want to go find Bryon and tell him to get married _right now_."  She shook her head.  "It's ridiculous.  I know it is."  

He chuckled and pulled her even closer.  "The emotion isn't ridiculous at all.  It's perfectly natural."  He met her eyes with a mischievous wink.  "Actually mentioning it to Bryon, on the other hand…"  

She smiled happily.  "Yeah.  That would be pretty stupid."  Then she started to laugh.  "But can you imagine the look on his face?  Can't you just see it?"  

"Angel, he can't father your grandchildren if he dies of embarrassment."  

"You're right, you're right.  I'll just have to be patient."  

---

It was the middle of the night, and Leia found herself wandering aimlessly through the residence.  She simply felt the need to talk to someone, anyone, about anything.  A profound sense of loneliness she couldn't shake off hung over her.  

She pondered her options as she walked.  After dinner Sarré had left for her parents' home, where she finally would have her long-awaited reunion with Sabé, Alain, and Nalé.  Leia also knew Jenny wasn't here; a short time after dinner she had seemed very upset when she had departed for her own apartment.  On her circuit Leia had passed by a series of bedrooms only to find in disappointment the red indicator light activated at each one; Danaé, Bryon, Mara, and her parents all were soundly asleep.  She actually caught herself considering finding Threepio for some companionship as she approached her twin brother's room last.  

To her delighted surprise the indicator light on his door panel was green.  She tapped the button and waited.  He must have sensed her presence in the Force – the door swished open without a hail to identify whom it was.  

Luke's room here was even more spartan than his quarters in the Jedi Temple; it contained only his bed, a small storage locker, and a closet with a modest selection of non-Jedi attire.  Tonight he was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the bed, but he did not appear to be meditating.  He looked up at her and laughed.  "Clearly you're not going out in public tonight!"  

She glanced down at herself.  She wore a very simple, unadorned white nightgown and had drawn up her long brown hair into two tight buns on either side of her head.  Admittedly it was not the most flattering look of which she was capable.  "Not that you're one to talk, wiseguy," she chuckled.  

He conceded the point with a nod; the white sleeveless nightshirt and sleepshorts were about as mundane as it got.  "So," he asked quietly, "why are you awake?"  

"I couldn't sleep.  I just feel…  I don't know…  Lonely."  

"And you wanted to talk to someone."  

She nodded.  "And you?  Why are you awake?"  

"I can't sleep either.  I'm… well… hurting tonight.  A lot."  

Leia sat down on the floor across from him, tucking her legs under herself and leaning on an arm.  She wasn't sure who else had figured it out, but she had.  "About Jenny, right?"  

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"  

"Not really.  But I should."  Luke flashed her a weak smile.  "You go first, though.  Tell me what's bothering you." 

"Okay," she said quietly, then paused.  "I don't know where to start."  

"How about with Captain Solo?"

"Hey!"

He laughed happily.  "If I'm going to talk about Jenny, you're going to talk about Han."

She grinned broadly too.  "Deal." 


	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

The formal reception hall in the Galactic Senate building was filled to capacity.  Warm sunlight streamed in the tall, narrow windows behind the dais, making the dress-whites uniforms of the rows of soldiers seem even brighter than usual.  Supreme Chancellor Trellem and other dignitaries bestowed Medals of Honor upon various units and individuals in recognition of exceptional service in the Vyhrragian crisis or other, less prominent conflicts in the Republic.  

The next group called forward was the surviving members of the Army Special Forces platoon commanded by Lieutenant Bryon Skywalker; seventeen of their forty-eight had been killed in the Battle of the Trade Spine.  In place of the usual profuse description of the relevant military glories the Chancellor read a simple statement extolling the platoon's success in a covert operation, noting that while further detail would be inappropriate the unit's achievement should not be underestimated.  Then he and several prominent committee chairmen presented the medals by draping them formally over each man's respectfully bowed head.  

As one the men turned around to acknowledge the cheering and applause from the crowd.  Bryon's eyes passed over the many rows of soldiers to the smaller section of guests at the rear of the long room.  It took him only a few seconds to find his sister Leia, looking as radiant as ever in her dark blue formal gown and elaborate Naboo hairstyle.  At her right shoulder her handmaiden wore a simple blue dress and hooded cloak.  Although the cowl concealed Sarré's eyes, he saw the broad grin on her face – and watched her reach up to wipe tears off her cheeks.  

Without taking his eyes from her, he wondered about the medal now hanging from his neck.  Although there was no official explanation, of course, the only mission for which it could have been awarded was the slaughter at the pirate's base.  To him it seemed highly offensive to celebrate their victory that day.  While it indeed was an impressive tactical accomplishment, it hardly warranted treatment as something positive.  Bryon sighed deeply.  Fortunately his platoon had a months' leave effective immediately, so he not only would have a lot of time with Sarré but also could talk out his feelings with his father.  

A short time later Navy officers Solo, Chewbacca, and Calrissian were awarded their medals for exemplary voluntary service in the rescue from Vyhrragian custody of Senator Leia Organa of Naboo.  At the rear of the hall the Senator had a broad smile on her face and cheered loudly and happily for the trio.  

When the ceremony finally ended, Han and Bryon found Leia and Sarré at the previously arranged spot in the bright and wide corridor.  Each man already had tucked his medal away in a pocket; Bryon because of his discomfort, Han because it seemed like some kind of gaudy necklace – and Han Solo did not wear necklaces.  Habitually the men took the outside positions as the four began to stride quickly toward the turbolifts.  

"I'll walk you back to your office, but then I'll need a few hours," Han explained.  "Lando's shipping out.  The Special Ops guys have some data analysis that really caught his interest.  And I owe him a dinner before he leaves."  

"Let me guess," Leia grinned.  "You lost a wager?"  

"Let's just say I blame it all on Luke and Mara," he laughed.  

To their left Sarré reached out her hand and took Bryon's.  He already had told her about his leave, so there was nothing at all they needed to say.  

"Wait," Leia said, "I thought you and Chewie and Lando were still entitled to be on vacation?  Why is he reporting back so soon?" 

"Oh, yeah," Han chuckled.  "We figured this was all the excitement we could handle for a while.  Plus, we can bank the leave time for later.  And Lando really does want this assignment, so we don't mind."  

"Okay," she smiled.  "Be sure to stop by my office when you're free later." 

Han flashed her a lopsided grin.  "As you wish, Princess."   

Struggling to keep pace with the quartet, Threepio and Artoo cut their way around a stalled group of soldiers.  

Artoo blooped and whistled.  "Yes, I did think the ceremony was a bit showy," Threepio answered.  "But humans seem to enjoy such festivities."  

Another burst of beeps and squawks.  "While I may be programmed to understand human behavior, there certainly are some aspects of their society that I simply never will understand," the protocol droid complained.  "And this, I'm afraid, is one of them."  

Artoo whistled sharply in consternation.  "What?  Oh dear!"  Threepio looked up just in time to see the turbolift door sliding down.  "Mistress Leia!  Wait!  Wait for us!"  

The door closed and the lift whisked away.  Threepio looked down at Artoo.  "This is all your fault!"  

The astromech honked rudely and rolled toward the next available lift.  

---

Leia leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath.  She reached out her hands and traced them along the edges of broad surface of the dark wooden desk.  It had been about three weeks since she last had sat here in her office in the Senate.  _Is that possible?  Has it really been only three weeks?_  Shaking her head sadly, she felt as if the young woman sitting here now was a completely different person than the one who had been there previously.  

Sarré stepped through the office door slowly, pulling on her cloak again.  "Leia?"  

"Yes, Sarré.  What is it?"  

"They'll be here momentarily."  

"Good," she smiled.  "Very good."  

Leia rose from her chair and paced to the middle of the brightly lit blue room.  After a few more relaxing breaths to calm her thoughts, Leia watched Sarré lead Sabé and Bail Millius through the door.  

"Leia!"  Sabé rushed forward and pulled her into a fierce embrace.  "It's so wonderful to see you.  I was so worried."  

"It's nice to see you too," Leia smiled.  "It's good to be here again." 

"I returned my credentials to the Sergeant-at-Arms.  I'm a private citizen again, Senator," Sabé chuckled.  

Leia nodded graciously.  "I am in your debt."  Then she turned to the Senator from Alderaan and shook his hand firmly.  "How are you, Bail?  How are we doing?"  

Millius grinned broadly.  "Well and very, very well," he laughed.  "I am most delighted to have you back.  Our leadership council missed you tremendously.  Your insight is important to us.  And as for the cowards – we are on the rise, Leia.  When you were kidnapped we were down almost two hundred."  

Leia frowned at the number.  "And now?"  

"Your rescue at Xixus.  The Battle of the Trade Spine.  And then this morning your mother released the word – so far only through back channels, of course – that she not only will be joining our faction but also the leadership council.  The dynamics have changed entirely.  We're down only fifty."  

"Fifty?"  Leia's face brightened in delight.  In a legislative body comprised of exactly 1200 delegates, it bordered on a statistically insignificant difference.  "Trellem can brush us aside no longer.  He'll have to compromise if he hopes to get anything accomplished."  She paused and considered a thought.  "One more mistake and he'd lose a no-confidence vote."  

"I agree," Millius nodded.  "But we can't afford to move one just yet.  Not all of the dissatisfaction with Trellem corresponds to support for whomever we would nominate for Chancellor."  

"And replacing him with Rylla or Breena doesn't achieve anything," Sabé chuckled.  

"Nevertheless," Leia beamed, "we're not on the outside anymore.  He will have to let us play an equal role in setting the agenda."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Sarré apologized, "but we need to go.  The session is about to start."  

The three others nodded and followed her out the door.  

---

The middle-aged man with long curly black hair and a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee, all streaked with gray, lay on his back in a bed in the plain white room of a healing ward.  He knew he was slowly recovering from his wounds: lightsaber injuries to both legs, his left arm, and multiple punctures of his torso.  He was lucky to be alive.  And he was glad he had lived, because that would enable him to exact a terrible vengeance upon those who had destroyed his life.  

The Jedi.  

Once he had been one of them.  Then one day without warning they had turned against him and tried to kill him.  As much as he concentrated and fought to remember, he had no idea how long he had been here.  

He remembered clearly only one part of that life: his apprentice.  The tall young woman.  Long brown hair.  Piercing blue eyes.  A beautiful face.  A strong, lean body.  She had been like his daughter.  

And the Jedi had taken her from him.  

They had not wanted him to train her any longer, so they had come to kill him.  They nearly had succeeded too.  But he had lived.  And he would have his revenge.  

The door to his room swished open.  A brunette young woman stepped through and walked quickly to his bedside.  She wore a low-cut sleeveless black shirt and a short black skirt.  "How is your pain?" she asked gently.   

"Not so bad today," he sighed.  

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," he insisted.  He saw the sadness in her eyes.  "Where is Bekka?" he asked fearfully.  The diminutive blonde had been his constant companion, devoted healer, and tender lover for his recovery.  He had seen the truth and restored his memory with the young woman's help.  Looking at her friend now, he felt a terrible void.  

"I'm…  I'm so sorry," the brunette consoled him.  "She's gone."  

"She's dead?"  His face fell.  "What happened?  Did…"  He couldn't speak the thought.  

"Yes," she nodded solemnly.  "A Jedi killed her."  

"Who?" he demanded angrily, a terrible fire burning in his spirit.  "Who?  Tell me!"  

"A Padawan learner named Luke Skywalker."  

"_No!_"  

It was impossible.  It couldn't be true.  

The Jedi had taken his apprentice from him.  And now her brother had killed Bekka.  His soul filled with hatred.  "He will pay for this!  He and his father and all the Jedi.  They will pay.  They will pay with their lives!"  

Just outside the room in the hallway three black-cloaked figures waited patiently.  Finally the shorter figure sensed the long-anticipated, final incremental shift in the Force.  

"It is done," Darth Vengous said coolly to the two tall men standing with her.  "Oga Trill is dead.  Darth Malus survives."  

"Yes, Master," the two men responded in unison.  

"Inform General Tarkin that I wish to meet with him.  The time has come to move to the second stage of our design."  

"Yes, Master," the two men said again.  

"Very well, my young apprentices.  You are dismissed."  

---

In the ever-present commotion and rumbling murmur of noise as the delegates of the Galactic Senate gathered in their respective pods, no one noticed the tall brown-cloaked figure who appeared alone in a small viewing balcony high on the wall of the gigantic bowl of the Senate chamber opposite the Supreme Chancellor's podium.  He pulled the billowing fabric around his body and tugged down the cowl fully over his face. 

From his perch his eyes picked out two specific pods along the sloping walls.  The Senator from Naboo stepped proudly through the open doorway into her pod, receiving a short burst of greetings and even some applause from the nearby delegates.  Her handmaiden's face was concealed beneath her cloak's hood, and like the fiercely loyal bodyguard that she was she shadowed her charge only one step off her shoulder.  Much farther below near the podium another beautiful woman strode confidently into a waiting pod.  Her golden gown shimmered in the chamber's lights and her long brown hair was pulled up into an attractive seashell spiral on the back of her head.  Following at a respectful distance, her petite Chief of Staff wore a gray tailored suit and a simple braid that hung down over the front of her jacket.  

As the session began, Anakin felt a glimmer of remorse that he could not be at Padmé's side.  For the first time in over twenty years she truly was a politician again.  Yet he knew this lonely vantage point was the only option.  Even had he not worn Jedi robes, his presence with her would have been interpreted by many in the Senate and the galaxy as a whole as nothing less than a public declaration of a political alliance between the new Senator-at-Large and the Jedi Order.  While of course that would not be true, the appearance of impropriety could be avoided only by his absence.  

With the introductory formalities concluded, Supreme Chancellor Trellem called the next order of business.  Along with those of the other seven at-large Senators designated by the Chancellor, Padmé's pod released from the wall and glided forward to hover in mid-air in front of the podium.  As everyone had expected, the ceremony was delayed by a thunderous standing ovation from the completely full chamber.  

Anakin's gaze found Leia again.  She and Sarré had stopped clapping to wipe their eyes.  After another moment they gave up on the applause entirely and hugged each other joyously, literally bouncing with happiness.  He looked across the chamber and located the Senator from Alderaan.  Millius was cheering riotously for Padmé, as Anakin had known he would be.  Then he focused on the solemn Supreme Chancellor; a quick scan in the Force revealed dejection and apprehension flowing from him.  

When decorum was restored, the Chancellor led the eight new delegates in the oath of office.  Anakin's eyes and soul saw only Padmé.  Everyone else, even Jenny at her shoulder, seemed to disappear.  With a final hopeless sigh he relinquished his control and let tears of joy pour down his cheeks.  

---

The usual brightness of early afternoon was muted by a thick fog that shrouded the Jedi Temple plaza and much of its sector of Coruscant.  Inside the Council chamber the shadows and gray illumination gave an eerie ambience to the room and the eleven gathered Masters.  After a moment of silence to mourn Master Krint, who had yet to be replaced on the Council, the others congratulated Anakin and delivered words of encouragement for Padmé.  Then Obi-Wan began the meeting by nodding to Master Offee.  

"As you know, I have directed the investigation into the suspicious death of Jarren Organa, the late husband of the Senator from Naboo, six months ago on the third planet of the Gimna system."  The golden-skinned Mirialan woman adjusted her deep blue robes, leaned forward in her seat, and braced her elbows on her knees.  "After recent developments I am able to present our preliminary conclusion.  We now are confident that his death was an assassination."  

Anakin sighed.  "I wish this were not true.  And yet from the beginning we all have believed that this is what we would find, especially once we determined the Sith might be involved."  

"For months we were not able to locate any useful information," Master Offee continued after a solemn nod.  "Within the last several days, however, one of our teams finally gained access to a facility that had been of interest to us for some time.  The facility was the site of a skirmish between local militias and Vyhrragian agents and saboteurs only two days before the killing.  Careful analysis of the battle scene revealed indisputable evidence that four enemy combatants wielded lightsabers." 

Master Secura leaned forward too.  "Four?  Are you certain?"  

"Yes, Aayla, we are certain," Master Offee confirmed calmly.  "Much of the evidence is the deflection pattern of blaster fire.  All contingencies were considered, such as energy shields and electromagnetic disruptors, but lightsabers were the only source consistent with all the evidence.  In addition, the enemy agents fled in such haste that they apparently did not have time to conceal several examples of physical damage to the facility from lightsabers."  

"But the assassination itself was by blaster fire," Master Bthitip pointed out.  

"True.  Yet for some time we have suspected that the Sith were involved in the death.  Nevertheless, there were several aspects of the scene of the assassination that we could not understand – even based on the presence of two Sith Lords.  The evidence simply did not make sense.  But with the presence of _four_ Sith, all of our prior findings suddenly became coherent and clear.  Hence our conclusion."  

Without speaking it aloud, all the Masters pondered the question of motive.  Knowing that the Sith had directed the killing of Leia's husband was important information – but why they would have targeted him, rather than Leia or Anakin, was not at all clear.  

"That is most understandable, Barriss, and I agree fully with your assessment," Master Bthitip nodded.  "Until the last few days we simply had no basis to consider the possibility that the Rule of Two might no longer be in place.  And now with your report I am willing to state that I believe we have definitive confirmation of its abrogation.  We must combine this with what Anakin has presented from Xixus and the Battle of the Trade Spine, and the fact that the disturbance of the dark side in the Force only has continued to grow in recent days.  There can be little doubt that the Sith's numbers have become considerably larger than at any time in the last thousand years."  

"It is profoundly unsettling," Master Secura frowned.  "It means we do not know how many enemies we face.  And given the difficulty we have in detecting the Sith in the Force, we cannot even be sure we will be able to determine when final victory has been achieved."  

"We will know," Anakin smiled, "because it will be different than last time.  We all had thought the Force was in balance.  But it was not.  It follows that when the Force truly is in balance, it will be a novel sensation.  And that is how we will know." 

"Anakin is right," Master Offee said confidently.  "I have no doubt our ultimate triumph will be apparent in the Force.  And yet we need not wait for that eventuality.  We should be aggressive in seeking to determine how many Sith there are."  

"I agree," Obi-Wan declared.  "We are in agreement, I believe, that Argis' so-called Crusaders of Justice are Sith Lords.  We can request that the Special Operations Division and the Intelligence Service begin immediately with information analysis and covert operations to determine the number of individual Crusaders.  That will at least tell us the minimum number."

"An excellent plan, Obi-Wan," Master Bthitip concurred.  "I propose that we provide several senior Padawans to assist in those endeavors where possible."

"Second," said Master Secura quickly.  

"Done," Obi-Wan decreed, seeing agreement from the other Council members.  

In the brief pause in the discussion, Master Offee spoke up again.  "Anakin, our report about your son-in-law's death is only in preliminary form.  How should we inform your daughter?  Although of course there rarely are any leaks to the Holonet from the Temple, I would be most chagrined to inadvertently increase the pain of the news for her should this be one of them."  The other Masters nodded solemnly.  

"Thank you, Barriss.  Your sensitivity to my family's suffering, especially those who are not Jedi, has been most appreciated by all of us."  Anakin took a deep breath.  "Unless there is objection, I will tell her.  She has a busy itinerary the next few days, but no doubt there will be a quiet moment within the week when I can speak with her."  They all nodded.  

"How is she managing her grief, Anakin?" Master Secura asked quietly.  

"Some days are better than others," he admitted calmly.  "Odd as it may seem, her recent experiences have reinvigorated her spirit.  And seemingly in a permanent way."    

Although none of the other members of the Council had personal experience with families of their own, between the younglings and the process of training and raising a Padawan in the odd social climate that was the Temple, they understood enough to celebrate Leia's recovery and appreciate her newfound levity.  

Obi-Wan decided that the meeting seemed to be drawing to its natural conclusion.  "I have begun to draft our report to the Senate," he explained.  "The section on the Xixus mission is nearly finished.  It benefits from the fact that I procured the slain Sith's lightsaber before we departed – such physical proof is much more difficult to question.  The Battle of the Trade Spine will take some careful analysis to establish our points, because we are asking the Senators to draw more inferences from the flow of the battle.  And once Barriss' missive is finished I will of course include much of it within our full report as well."  

"I am the second reader on the report," Anakin confirmed.  "Once I've completed my review, I will be sure to circulate it to the rest of you for comments.  This one is significant enough that we all should sign off on it."  

Obi-Wan nodded.  "Is there any other business?"  The others shook their heads.  "Then the meeting is adjourned.  See you all this evening for the brief scheduled audience.  May the Force be with you." 

---

Luke and Mara arranged the timing of their return to the Jedi Temple to exploit the relative anonymity of the bustle of the dinner hour.  The spacious hallways were mostly empty while they walked to the cafeteria, the hoods of their brown cloaks drawn up over their heads.  Neither of them was in the mood to talk to casual acquaintances yet.  When they entered the wide room with its high arching ceiling, they melted into the crowd and made their way to the spot they and their closest friends always shared.  

As they had expected, at the usual small round table a group of five was seated with two empty chairs.  The young Jedi halted their idle banter and looked up curiously at the two cloaked figures who stopped beside them.  Simultaneously the pair lowered their hoods.  

"Luke!  Mara!  You're back!"  The words burst out in excitement as the quintet sprang to their feet.  Hugs and happy greetings were exchanged for several minutes.  

Finally Gars Von Krindlemeier, a tall, dashing man from Chandrilla, shook his head.  "We've been so inconsiderate," he apologized.  "I didn't even ask if we should get you something to eat."  

"Don't worry about it," Luke insisted.  "We ate earlier back at my parents' place."  

The five friends shared a quick glance.  Something had changed.  Mara had not immediately snapped a witty retort at Luke.  And Luke had said "we" instead of "I," which he always had done in the past even on those occasions when Mara had accompanied him.  

It was bizarre.  

As the seven of them took seats at the table, Ralli Gialla passed by her chair and lowered herself into Luke's lap.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and snuggled her face against his neck.  

"I missed you," Ralli whispered in his ear.  

"Yeah," he answered.  

Ignoring the couple, the others began to pepper Mara with questions about the mission on Gimna 3, the rescue on Xixus, and the Battle of the Trade Spine.  Politely she answered them one by one, yet her mind was utterly distracted.  

She was jealous.  Was she?  Yes, it definitely was there.  Pondering the surprising emotion, Mara assumed she was envious of Luke – of the overt manifestations of a physical and emotional relationship he had that she did not.  As soon as she tried to brush the thought aside, however, a memory from only yesterday evening blasted to the fore in her mind.  Without missing a beat in her conversation with her friends, she let it play out again.  

_She was walking through the Skywalker residence when she passed Luke's bedroom and heard an emotional conversation inside.  Unable to stop herself, she locked down her Force presence and eavesdropped outside the closed door.  _

_"We can't do this, Luke," Jenny was saying.  _

_"Why not?" he demanded passionately.__  "I thought you said you loved me!" _

_"Luke, be reasonable," she pleaded.  "Of course I love you.  I helped raise you.  You're like my little brother.  That's the way I love you."_

_"That's not true," he insisted.  "I can sense more in you, and your actions speak for themselves.  What, are you asking me to forget what you did?  I'm supposed to say it was a kiss you should never have given me and pretend it never happened?"  _

_"We can't be together, Luke," she tried again, her voice becoming increasingly filled with agony.  "Regardless of the way we feel about each other."_

_"I knew it!  You do feel something!" _

_"It doesn't matter what I feel," she persisted, clearly through tears.  "We can't do this.  I know it's wrong.  You know it's wrong.  And I don't even want to think about what your parents would do.  Actually I already know – they'd kill me."  She choked down a sob.  "Luke, I'm going to walk out of your room and we're both going to move on with our lives and never make this mistake again.  There cannot be anything between us.  It's just not possible."_

_"Anything's possible, Jenny, listen to me…"  _

_"No!  You listen!" she almost shouted.  "I'm sorry if I've hurt you, Luke.  I truly am.  But you have to accept my decision.  If you care about me, you will." _

_Luke was silent for a long time.  "Maybe in time I'll accept it_._  But right now I'm…  I'm…  I'm really angry and let's leave it at that.  I hope you're right, and everything will be back to normal eventually, but right now I…"  He blew out a deep sigh.  "You should go."  _

_"Okay," she sniffled.  _

_Counting on Luke's heartache to mask his perceptions, Mara used a burst of Force-assisted Jedi speed to ensure she was gone by the time Jenny emerged from the room seconds later._

Mara's eyes focused again on Luke and Ralli across the table.  Still conversing with their friends, she realized she wasn't jealous of Luke after all.  She was jealous of Ralli.  She wanted to be the one in Luke's lap, holding him close and having a secret whispered dialogue.  

Mara yanked her eyes away from them and focused on the smooth surface of the table.  She had not anticipated these feelings.  Not in the slightest.  It was so strange.  So confusing.  So impossible.  She couldn't have feelings for Luke.  Of all the men in the Temple, not him.  But the jealousy hadn't gone away, and it was poking her incessantly in the back of her mind.  

With great effort Mara raised her eyes and looked at Luke and Ralli again.  When she did, all she felt was a nearly overpowering desire to reach over the trays of food and grab Ralli by the throat and fling her away from him.  

The astonishing sensation left her stunned.  So much so that she stopped speaking in mid-sentence.  

Fortunately her companions were distracted when a vicious pulse of dark emotions suddenly burst from Ralli.  Instantly they all sensed it, and the other five looked to embracing pair.  

Ralli sprang to her feet and slapped Luke across the face.  Twice.  Hard.  "Just like that…  You're just walking away…  After everything you said…"  Her voice sputtered in anguish but her face revealed only anger and betrayal.  "And you kissed…   You didn't care enough to…  I can't believe you, Luke.  I thought you were a better man than this."  She spun on her heel and stormed away.  

Gars spoke for the others.  "We'll go talk to her.  I'm sure she's just surprised and upset.  She certainly knew better than to actually let herself develop real…  Well, she'll be fine soon."  With nods all around the table the four friends rose and jogged after Ralli.  

That left Mara and Luke sitting at the table opposite each other.  Their eyes met.  

She concentrated as hard as she could to keep her newfound emotions from being revealed in her Force presence.  Just like that Ralli was out of the picture, and Luke's transitory infatuation with Jenny would pass quickly enough on its own.  Mara didn't know what to think.  

Luke stared deeply into her eyes but didn't say anything.  His blue eyes were dulled and watery; they were filled with regret and anxiety and… understanding.  Could it really be understanding?  Or was she seeing what she wanted to, instead of what really was there?

Whichever it was, Mara knew that despite her best efforts he had perceived enough of her feelings to discover that she was pleased about Ralli's departure not because she wanted him to suffer but because maybe – or even something stronger than maybe – she wanted to be the one to replace her.  

Only a month ago that would have seemed ludicrous in the extreme to either of them.

Not anymore.  

"Mara," he sighed, "it's been a long few weeks.  I've learned a lot about myself, and not all of it I like.  I need… some time before…  What I mean is…  You're my best friend.  And that's…"  His voice trailed off, but he released all the controls on his feelings and exposed them to her in the Force.  

She absorbed exactly what he meant.  It was something.  A start.  A small start.  The first tentative, awkward step on a much longer journey.  And right now, it was all either of them was ready for.  

She smiled warmly.  "Of course, Luke."  

---

The two tall Jedi stood in the center of the Council chamber, surrounded by the eleven Masters seated in a circle of chairs around the windowed walls.  The warm light of sunset filled the room and gave a healthy glow to the faces of the individuals inside.  

On the right the bald, elderly man was an obelisk of confidence and determination.  A former member of the Council, he clasped his hands politely on his abdomen and barely seemed to move, even for breathing.  

On the left the young woman's face was outwardly calm, but her unsettled emotions were apparent to everyone present.  Her hands hung aimlessly at her sides with fingers twitching nervously, and almost imperceptibly she continually shifted her weight, searching in vain for a comfortable posture.  

Finally the chairman of the Council broke the silence.  "An understanding has been reached, Master Windu?" 

"Yes, Master Kenobi," Mace confirmed definitively.  

"Very good," Obi-Wan nodded.  "Danaé, we would like to hear you explain the arrangement in your own words."  

"Yes, Master Kenobi," Danaé bowed politely.  "Master Windu has agreed to train me.  He will not yet, however, formally become my Master."  For a brief moment her eyes fell to the floor, then rose again.  "In exchange, I have agreed to abide by the Order's ancient rule of decision.  If there is no word of Master Trill within a year and a day of his disappearance, then he will be presumed dead."  She met Obi-Wan's eyes firmly.  "Upon the passage of that threshold, Master Windu will take me as his Padawan learner.  I will complete my training with him, even in the unlikely event that Master Trill should later reappear."  

"And what will be the focus of your work with Master Windu?" Obi-Wan inquired.  

"To begin, the lightsaber," she stated calmly.  Then she took a deep breath.  "And equally my feelings over the loss of Master Trill.  Together we will work on confronting and then surpassing my grief."  

"Very good," Obi-Wan smiled.  "And you, Master Windu?  Have you anything to add?"  

"I believe this arrangement is the best solution for Danaé at this time," Mace explained.  "I have great confidence in her.  She will not long need my tutelage.  Soon she will be ready for the Trials."  Everyone in the room except Danaé knew Mace well enough to catch the implication in the inflections of his concluding sentence: that she might be ready before her brother.  

"Very well, Master Windu.  You have served the Order long and well, and have enjoyed a well-deserved retirement.  Your devotion to our values is a testament to your spirit and honors us all.  For you now to accept this obligation willingly and unhesitatingly is above and beyond any duty that you reasonably owe.  The Council expresses its profound gratitude for this commitment."  Obi-Wan quickly glanced around the circle to meet the eyes of his ten colleagues, lingering an extra moment in a wordless understanding with Anakin.  "The Council approves your request.  Danaé, effectively immediately you are assigned exclusively to Master Windu for your training."  

"Thank you, Master Kenobi," Danaé bowed politely again.  

Seated just outside her peripheral vision at her left shoulder, her father spoke the final words of her audience before the Council.  

"May the Force be with you."

---****

"I've been meaning to tell you something," Han said somewhat reluctantly.  

Leia was standing at the broad window to her Senate office, watching the flow of airspeeder traffic between the Senate building and the amazing late evening skylines of Coruscant beyond.  She turned around to face the man standing on the other side of her desk.  When she did, he clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his posture, probably hoping to conceal his obvious nervousness.  "What's that?" 

"I'm not very good at this, you see," he explained.  "I wanted to apologize.  For the way I've treated you.  I was rude and disrespectful and probably offensive."  He took a deep breath.  "No one told me you were a widow.  That you were still observing the customary period of mourning of your homeworld.  I didn't know."  

Leia laughed happily and stepped out around the desk to stand a few paces away from him.  "Listen to what I am about to tell you, Han.  Because it's the truth."  She made sure she had his full attention.  "Yes, I'm a widow.  Yes, I suppose I technically was in a period of mourning.  But I'm still the same person I was before."  She shook her head a little.  "Not that you would know what I'm usually like, of course.  But I can hold my own with anyone, even someone like you.  You'll just have to trust me." 

"I trust you," Han nodded.  

"Everyone in my family has been treating me like I'm fragile.  Like any little complaint or tease is going to shatter me into a million pieces or send me over the edge into some hysterical fit of crying.  I'm a stronger person than that.  I always have been."  She was frowning in frustration.  "And I'm sick and tired of it.  I want to be treated normally.  I don't want special handling.  I want to be Leia, not some pampered little girl."  

"I understand, I think," he said quietly, letting his hands fall to his sides.  

"I guess what I'm saying is that meeting you was very refreshing.  You didn't know who I was, or anything about me, or that my family would have wanted you to be polite and considerate to me.  You were yourself.  You let me see who you really are.  And you have no idea how much that meant to me, and still does."  

"You're welcome," Han replied.  Then he grinned lopsidedly.  "Does this mean I've seen the real you too?  The Leia I rescued and who flew with me in battle?"  

She smiled broadly.  "That's the most I've felt like myself in a long time."  

He stood there silently, frozen in place.  Leia had the distinct impression he was struggling mightily over whether he could bring himself to say what was on his mind.  From his smile she thought maybe this time with her had made him feel more alive – more like himself – than he had felt in a long time either.  After a long silence he spoke.  "Well, Princess, it's been a pleasure.  I'm due to head back to the _Orn__ Free Taa_ tomorrow."

Leia took two steps forward and lifted her face so she could look him closely in the eyes.  As a little girl she used to sit for hours watching leaves spinning down whirlpools in the gentle streams on Naboo.  Enchanted by Han's deep brown eyes, she felt as if she were being pulled into them the same dizzying way.  Her heart was pounding and she knew her face was flushing.  She had spent the seemingly endless days and nights of her captivity grieving for Jarren without ever imagining she could react this way to another man so soon.  And yet…

"Princess?"  

She did what her heart told her to do.  "I have a question for you, Han."  

"A question?  Sure."  

"Would you be interested in a three-month assignment on Coruscant?"  

"Um, the Admirals Council and I haven't exactly seen eye to eye on a lot of things and…" ****

"Oh, don't worry, it's not that," she laughed as she interrupted him.  "At the Senate.  The Navy Oversight subcommittee begins hearings next week on assorted personnel and procurement issues.  We need two or three officers detailed full time to the staff to assist the subcommittee with all of the specifics that are involved in the investigations and reports.  As chair the duty falls on me to identify and hire appropriate officers.  And we expect the hearings to last about three months."

"Well, that really doesn't sound like anything I'd usually put in for," he chuckled, his mischievous smile revealing that he understood exactly what she was suggesting, "but I suppose if I get this assignment, I'd be working with your subcommittee all the time?"  

"With the subcommittee, yes.  Mostly with me, really."  

"You can arrange a Coruscant post for Chewie too?  You can make this happen?"

"You'd be surprised the things I can make happen," she winked.  "So, would you be interested?" 

"Is that officially an offer?"  

"Yes."  

"I accept."

"Done."  She paused, still captivated by his eyes.  "I look forward to working with you, Captain," she declared in highly exaggerated mock formality.  

"I am at your disposal, _Senator_," he bowed theatrically, tucking his left hand behind his back and doffing his cap into an elaborate, rolling flourish with his right.  

Then they stood in silence, simply staring at each other.  

---

Bryon carried two empty goblets in each hand and joined Sarré in the kitchen of the Skywalker residence, where she was loading the silverware and dishes into the cleaner unit.  As he set them down on the counter next to her pile, he shook his head and smiled.  Leia had stayed behind alone at the office, insisting without explanation that her only remaining business for the day she wished to handle herself.  Luke, Danaé, and Mara had returned to the Jedi Temple earlier in the day, Jenny had gone home to her apartment, and the droids were deactivated to recharge their fuel cells.  The quiet dinner with his parents – just the four of them – had been relaxing and perfectly enjoyable.  It was an experience he could get used to.  "I can't believe how easy that was."  

She laughed lightly.  "For someone who's so smart, sometimes you really are stupid, Bryon."  

"That's not very nice," he frowned.  

"Oh, lighten up," she laughed again while continuing to load the cleaner.  "I know you've always been nervous around your parents with me.  But after we talked to them on your Dad's ship, and they didn't care when Leia sent us away the first night we were back, how can you still have anything to be concerned about?"  

"You're right, of course," he chuckled.  "Like you always are.  Old habits die hard, I guess."  

"Okay.  I'll let it go, just this once."  She finished her task, closed the unit, and started it running.  She looked around quizzically.  "Where did your parents go?"  

Bryon shrugged.  "Does it really matter?"  

"No," Sarré smiled.  "No, it doesn't."  She stepped over and took his hand.  "You know, I really hope we're that happy when we've been married twenty-three years."  

"Me too," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.  They walked slowly to the residence's large salon and reclined together on one of the long plush sofas facing the large window.  For a while they simply reveled in the warmth of their embrace and watched the soft colors of the setting sun create brilliant patterns on the cityscape.  

"We're alone," he finally said quietly, "and I'm happy just to lie here with you in my arms."  

"It's nice," she whispered.  "It's very nice."  She adjusted her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his neck.  "Did you mean what you told them on the ship?"  

"Huh?  Which part?"  His hands slipped beneath her white silken shirt and caressed her bare back.  

"That we'll probably get married soon."  The fingers of one hand began playing with the short hair on the back of his head while the other crawled under his shirt and up his chest. 

"Definitely.  I definitely meant it."  He turned his face and kissed her forehead again.  "Unless you've changed your mind, I mean," he teased.  

"No.  Since we made that decision last year, there hasn't been a single second that I've had any regrets about it."  She leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips.  "What did you mean by soon?"

"I don't know.  Are you free tomorrow?"  

She giggled happily.  "Bryon, I'm serious!"  

"Well, between the two of us we certainly can afford to get our own place and live comfortably.  But what troubles me, I think, is that you're still settling into your job with Leia, and I'm one or two promotions away from having any real control over my assignments."

"Yeah."

"And there's a baby to think about too.  I worry our lives are too unpredictable right now.  I don't know, maybe in a year?  Maybe by then we'll be in a position to have a more stable life together?"  

"I guess."  

"What's wrong?  What's bothering you?"

"There's never going to be a perfect time, that's all.  I mean, there will always be some reason to wait.  Our lives are busy.  That's just how it is."  She kissed the side of his face tenderly.  "Look at your parents.  They're two of the busiest people in the galaxy, and yet their marriage is as strong now as it ever was."  

"That's true.  Although to be fair they had Jenny to help them when we were young," he winked.  "But right now we can't even really decide on a date.  There's no guarantee I wouldn't be away somewhere on a mission when the day came.  I suppose we could pick a general timeframe, but even that might be difficult to do."  

"No, it's okay.  The best we can do for now is say that we'll get married soon.  When the time feels right and everyone's available, we'll just have to make it happen really quickly."  

"You think that's feasible?"  

She laughed.  "Between me and Leia, and your Mom and my Mom?  We could set it up in an afternoon!"  

He chuckled in agreement.  "That would be quite a combination!  I think I'd just stay out of the way and let you ladies go to work." 

"I think that's very wise of you, Bryon."  

He squeezed her tightly.  "I suppose you have to head home, huh?"  

"Nope," she smiled happily.  

"No?"  

"When I called Mom from the office before I left to tell her I was coming here for dinner, she told me point blank that it was okay if I wanted to stay the night."  

He simply shook his head in disbelief.  "Sometimes it really amazes me the relationship you have with her.  I would die if my Mom or Dad ever said something like that to me."

She looked questioningly into his eyes.  "They won't mind if I stay with you, will they?"  

"I think you were right earlier," he smiled.  "They've done all they can to support us and make us feel comfortable."  Then he laughed.  "If they had any objections, Dad would have offered to fly you home in his speeder or something like that.  As long as we're… discrete about it, I doubt they'll say anything."  

"You're probably right," she sighed contentedly.  "So, are you ready to go to bed?"  

He looked outside and realized night had fallen.  "I'm not really tired," he said in all seriousness.  

She pulled away from his embrace entirely and threw up her hands in frustration.  "Again, so smart and yet so stupid.  Do I actually have to spell it out for you?"  

"Oh, right.  Yeah, okay," he apologized self-deprecatingly.  "Sure, I'm ready."  He rose to his feet swiftly, scooping her up in his arms as he did.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips.  He grasped her firmly by the waist and began to carry her toward the door with long strides.  

"Very good," she winked.  "You're catching on."  

"Well, I am a slow learner."  

---

Anakin's peaceful doze was broken by the anticipatory signal in the Force moments before Padmé shifted in his arms toward the far away edge of their enormous bed.  After all these years she still kept trying – but she didn't stand a chance.  

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded in a whisper, locking her into his inescapable embrace.  

With a giggle she rolled over to face him.  "I thought I might go up and get some air."  

"What makes you think you're free to go?  Maybe I'm not finished with you yet."  

"If you know what's good for you, you are."  

He kissed her forehead.  "You're free to go."  

"Thanks."  She kissed his lips tenderly.  

"Did you want to be alone?" he asked with a truly pathetic plaintive look in his eyes.  

"No," she smiled.  "I was going to let you sleep if you wanted to.  But you're welcome to join me."  

After they pulled on their robes they walked to the narrow spiral staircase tucked into the corner of the room just past the portal to Padmé's gargantuan walk-in closet.  They emerged onto the small balcony that was the very top of the towering skyscraper.  Only a few feet in diameter, it provided a stunning panorama of the capital city-planet.  

Padmé turned a slight angle and walked right up to the railing.  Anakin pressed his body against her back, wrapped his arms around her waist, and gently rested his chin on the top of her head.  She smothered his arms with hers and let out a deep sigh.  

For a few minutes they stood there silently, gazing at the amazing lights of the multitude of buildings and the flowing lines of airspeeder traffic that sparkled and shone in the nighttime cityscape.  Near the edge of visible horizon on the left was the enormous dome of the Galactic Senate, as always illuminated fully like some kind of political beacon.  At a similar distance on the right was a noticeable gap in the pattern of lights and soaring structures.  Although it was not visible, the Jedi Temple's presence was obvious.  

Even though the audio-management devices on the balcony not only dampened the buzzing noise of the city but also garbled all conversations to prevent any eavesdropping, she kept her voice hushed.  "What's going to happen now, Ani?"  

"I'm not sure, angel," he said softly.  "The future is always in motion."  

"There's going to be a war, isn't there?"  

"Yes, I think there will be.  One we probably could win easily if the Senate were willing to take decisive action now."  

"Which it won't.  That will make everything worse."  

He squeezed her just a little bit tighter.  "I'm afraid so."  

"And the Sith?"  

"The dark side is growing in strength.  It clouds our vision in the Force.  The Jedi Council has no real way to take this fight to them."  He took a deep breath.  "We have to wait for the enemy to make the next move."  

"You still believe in the prophecy, right?  Even though they came back?" 

"The prophecy isn't specific.  It doesn't identify me by name.  It doesn't say that killing Sidious was my only destiny.  It only foretells that the Chosen One will bring balance to the Force."  He tenderly rubbed her robed abdomen with his hands.  "I'll fulfill the prophecy once and for all this time.  I promise."

She pressed herself against him more.  For a brief moment her right hand lifted up to clutch the faded japoor snippet pendant hanging from a thin chain around her neck.  Ordinarily she wore it only as a soothing charm when she and Anakin were apart.  Earlier in the evening she had told him about her enigmatic compulsion to wear the old, lovingly carved good-luck talisman tonight even though they were together.  "They're going to try to kill you, aren't they?" 

"I assume so.  I'd certainly try to kill me if I were them."  

She swallowed hard and held back her tears.  "You can't die.  I need you." 

"Same for me, angel.  I'm not sure how I would live without you.  I'm not sure I could."  

The newly inaugurated Senator-at-Large smiled playfully and changed the mood.  "Well, then we'll both just have to stay alive, won't we?"  

"Yes.  Yes, we will."  The tranquil Jedi Master kissed the top of her head.  "And we've managed that pretty well so far," he agreed teasingly.  

"That's true," she nodded gently underneath his chin.  Then she squeezed his arms tightly.  "I'm not foolish to be hopeful for the future, am I, Ani?"  

"No, angel," he reassured her.  His eyes gazed into the night at some indefinite point far in the distance.  "There is always reason to hope.  Even in the midst of the greatest darkness."  

THE END

_Coming Soon:_

_Four "Missing Scenes" from A Destiny Renewed with Author's Commentary._

_Followed by the sequel:_ **EPISODE V: HOPE AND DARKNESS**


	18. Missing Scenes with Author's Commentary

**_A Destiny Renewed_**** Missing Scene A: Shouldn't Have Done That (Chapter 13)**

_Author's Commentary: The Luke/Jenny subplot was designed as a red herring from the start. One aspect of the AU Jedi Padawan personality I've created for Luke is the "Heartbreaker" moniker, which is based partly on his string of romantic disasters in the EU and partly on a parallel to his father's path in "A Bumpier Road."  Jenny became the obvious inappropriate romantic foil for Luke.  As the story wound down, I wanted to keep the readers guessing about Luke and Jenny without giving stronger signals than were warranted.  So in the story's main text I decided to leave only hints and ambiguities until the final Luke/Mara scene of chapter 16.  _

_This is a perfect Missing Scene – it would have been overly distracting in the main story, but it's fun as an extra afterwards_. 

Luke pulled off his helmet and sat for a moment in the cockpit of his X-Wing, now docked again in the main hangar bay of the _Invictus_.  The battle was over.  The Republic had won.  His father had shot down the Sith ace.  Although four Jedi in Red Squadron had been killed, those close to him had survived.  And it was his attack on the bridge of the _Hand of Justice_ that had made the difference for everyone.  

It was the first time in his life his accomplishment overshadowed his father's.  

He took a deep breath and tapped the button to raise the transparisteel canopy, pushed off from the sides, and swung his legs around to the boarding ladder.  He heard the shouts before he reached the bottom.  

"Luke!  Luke!"  

He dropped gently to the floor and turned around.  His mother, Sarré, and Jenny were rushing toward him through the crowded hangar.  They were smiling broadly and wiping their eyes as they ran.  

Padmé got to him first.  She slammed him into a rough embrace.  "Oh, Luke.  Luke.  Oh, Luke."

"It's okay, Mom," he said quietly.  "I'm fine.  I'm fine."  

"I know," she sighed.  "I was so scared.  I thought you…"

"But I didn't, Mom.  I'm here."  He hugged her firmly and stepped back.  "It's over."  

"For now, it is," his mother smiled.  Then she laughed.  "Right now, I need to go find Leia.  I need to have a talk with her about her recklessness."  

As she departed, Luke raised his eyebrows at Sarré.  "What did she do now?"  

Sarré hugged Luke too.  "I'll tell you later," she chuckled.   

"Okay."

Sarré met his eyes.  "Thank you, Luke.  Thank you for saving all of us."  

"You're welcome."  It felt so strange to hear her say that.  No one ever had thanked him for doing his duty before.  Sarré jogged off to catch Padmé, and he realized Jenny was standing in front of him and crying.  "What's wrong?" 

"I was… I was…"  She reached up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  "I was so scared I was going to lose you."  

Her phrasing caught his attention immediately.  "Well, I'm fine," he said curiously, trying to read her emotions in the Force.  

"I don't want to lose you," she said again as she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his back and resting her head against his chest.  

Luke put his hands on her back and ran them slowly up and down reassuringly.  He could feel the heat of her skin through the soft fabric of her light blue flight suit, and it sent shivers of excitement down his spine.  

Jenny's hands began to move on his back too, and it wasn't just a reassuring pat.  It was a caress.  Definitely a caress.  Then she leaned against him even more, pressing her chest against his and tentatively touching her thighs to his too.  

Luke barely managed to stifle a gasp.  He matched the gentleness of her touch with his hands, lightly running his fingers along her back.  

A moment later she pulled away and looked up into his eyes.  "We should go with the others," she said quietly.  The reluctance in her voice was apparent.  

"Yes," he croaked.  "Yes, we should."  

It didn't take them long to find the crowd by the _Lady Vader_.  Padmé and Leia were engaged in an animated conversation, Anakin and Obi-Wan were laughing together, Mara was talking to Captain Solo, and Danaé was standing to the side with Bryon and Sarré.  Luke immediately headed toward his Master, and Jenny went to rescue Leia from the lecture.  

Eventually the family made its way to the guest quarters on the destroyer, and Luke didn't know what to think.  Jenny seemed to be avoiding him now.  She had stayed on the other side of group the entire time.  He was beginning to wonder if he had misinterpreted her actions completely.  It was possible, he supposed, that she was trying to hide her emotions from his father and Danaé.  But it seemed more likely he simply had mistaken her joy about the victory for feelings for him.  

Luke was standing in the middle of his small bedroom, staring at the wall and thinking, when the door buzzer sounded.  In his distracted state, he simply waved off the lock.  

They were alone in his bedroom. 

And the feelings in her Force presence now were anything but ambiguous.  "Jenny?" 

"Luke," she murmured, rushing to him and embracing him again.  "Luke."  

At first he held his hands in place on her back, but her caresses resumed just as she had left them off.  After a moment he began to stroke her sides tenderly.  Jenny moaned quietly and pressed into him sensually.  He tilted his face down to look at her.  

She leaned her face up very closely to his and gazed intensely into his eyes.  

His heart was pounding.  He could feel her warm breath tickling his jaw, and he knew exactly what she was going to do.  

She lifted her face the last tiny distance and brushed her lips against his.  

It sent a rush of heat blasting through his body.  He pressed his lips into hers.  Then they separated for a moment and stared into each other's eyes again.  It didn't last long.  Their lips met, softly and sweetly.  

She pulled away, just a little.  Her hands were clutching his tightly.  Her eyes were full of longing and affection.  "I love you."  

He swallowed hard.  "I… I…"

She silenced him with another tender kiss.  "Shh," she whispered seductively.  "Don't talk."  

Suddenly he sensed something in the Force.  "Dad's coming," he gasped.  

She sprang back from him, her face flushing and her eyes filled with fright.  "I… um, I think," she stammered.  "I think I should go."  

"Yeah," he gulped.  

And within a heartbeat she was gone.  

He collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling.  In the hallway outside his father passed by without a pause.  Luke didn't move for a long, long time.  

**************

**_A Destiny Renewed_**** Missing Scene B: The Princess' New Clothes (Chapter 15)**

_Author's Commentary: An important character development point in chapter 15 is Leia's announcement that she's ending her period of mourning, which sets up her emotional willingness to ask Han to stay in chapter 16.  I wanted to do something more than merely have her say it, though, and I decided that buying new clothes (colors instead of black) was a good illustration.  It also indirectly would remind everyone of Mara's honorary membership in the family – Leia asked her to come along instead of waiting for Sarré to return.  All of this could be established with a handful of lines and an "offscreen" scene with Leia and Mara. _

Mara fidgeted outside the closed door of the dressing room.  She didn't like this attire, not one bit.  The simple gray tunic and black leggings seemed entirely too thin.  She was so accustomed to wearing her Jedi robes she felt almost naked in the outfit.  Despite the fact that this particular clothier was famous for its discretion, Leia had insisted they dress as nondescriptly as possible to minimize the chances of being recognized by other patrons.  

Absentmindedly she reached down and patted her lightsaber handle through the fabric of the tunic.  A small holster on her thigh concealed the weapon and the tunic hung low enough to cover most of the holster.  Nonetheless, not having her blade clipped to the usual place on her belt made her anxious.  

The dressing room door swung open and Leia emerged.  The tight bodice of the bright red dress flaunted her figure, and the dip of the neckline stopped exactly at tantalizing.  The narrow sheath reached all the way to the floor.  It was attractive but not excessively sensual, Mara thought.  She was about to say as much when Leia strode forward.  

Mara gasped.  "Leia," she asked tentatively, "does the slit on the side really go as high as I think it does?"

Leia grinned, crooked her knee forward, and pointed with her finger.  "It goes to here."  

"Oh dear," Mara said.  "That's even worse."

"What?  You don't like it?"

"No, I do," Mara replied sincerely.  "It just… I mean… Where do you plan to wear this?"

Leia laughed happily.  "Not for any official Senate business, if that's what you're getting at!"

"Where, then?"

"In about three weeks there's going to be a ball for all the delegations in our sector.  And I was planning…"

"Hold on," Mara interrupted.  "A ball?  Isn't that a little inappropriate right now, with the Vyhrragian crisis?"

"I'm sure some people will think so," Leia admitted.  "But we all really need to get our minds away from work for one night.  The Bestine delegation proposed it, and everyone supported it."  

"I see."

"So anyway," Leia persisted, "I was planning to wear this to that."  

"I see."

"Now, you can't just consider how I look in this, you understand," Leia continued.  "You have to imagine me standing next to an officer in dress whites about, oh, this tall."  Her hand marked off a height just a bit shorter than her father's.  

"I see."

"Are you going to say anything other than 'I see' or do I have to come over there and shake more words out of you?"

"Sorry," Mara chuckled.  "It's perfect.  Really.  It's perfect."

"Great!" Leia chirped.  She bounded back into the dressing room and closed the door.  "You seem surprised that I'd be wearing something like this," she said from inside.  

"I guess I am," Mara admitted.  

"Why?" 

"I'm delighted for you, don't get me wrong.  It's just happened so fast."

"Like I said before," replied a voice muffled by fabric, "the rescue and the battle made me realize that I have to move on with my life.  I can be happy again if I'd just let myself try to be."  

"You just met him, though," Mara noted as Leia launched from the dressing room in an outfit just like hers.  "And won't he have to deploy to his ship pretty soon?"

"One second," Leia said.  She held the dress folded in her arms.  "Threepio!"

The golden protocol droid hobbled through the portal from the main display area.  "Yes, Mistress Leia?"

"Add this to the pile, please," she instructed, tossing the garment to him as she turned back to Mara.  

Mara kept her chuckle to herself when the droid nearly toppled over as he lunged to catch the dress before it hit the floor.  She was pretty sure he was muttering to himself in consternation about what he must have done to deserve this treatment while he walked out again.  

"As for Han's deployment," Leia started up without missing a beat, "I have an idea already for taking care of that."  

Mara laughed.  "You're certainly a woman who knows how to get what she wants, Leia.  But you did just meet him.  Don't you think you're rushing into things?"

"Walk with me," Leia waved, leading her toward another part of the establishment.  "I would like to point out," she said mischievously as Mara caught up, "that you nearly invited him to your room yourself after you'd known him only a few days."  

"That's completely different!"  

"How?"

"It just is!"

"How?"

Mara stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms over her chest.  "I'm the one asking the questions!" 

"I knew it!" Leia crowed triumphantly as she spun around.  "You're just jealous because you're still in a drought."

"Drought implies the absence of something necessary," Mara snapped.  

Leia shook her head and started walking again.  "I still don't see the difference."  

"You're talking about asking him to stay for you.  About inviting him to a ball.  But it would have just been a physical thing for me, Leia, okay?  That's why I didn't.  I'm not like Lu…"  She swallowed the thought instantly, but it was too late.  

"Like my twin brother?"  Leia looked intensely into her eyes.  "I never said you should be.  I think it's admirable that you're waiting for the right time with the right man.  I wish I had."  She paused for a moment, gazing off indistinctly across the room.  "I certainly never would have sent Bryon and Sarré away last night if I didn't know how deeply they love each other."  

"Listen, Leia, I was only trying to tease you about him," Mara said.  "I know what you said earlier.  If you're ready to move on, you should do it.  And if you want to close your eyes and jump into the river and see where the current takes you, I'll support you."

"Thank you," Leia smiled warmly.  "And what about you?"

"I've been focused on preparing myself for the Trials.  I'm not even thinking about that kind of thing right now.  I can't afford to be distracted by some silly fling, and I certainly don't have time for love."

"Who ever does?" Leia laughed.  "Just don't be stupid about it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, don't get so involved in your training and preparation that you'd miss the moment if it comes.  Right now, I'm not sure you'd recognize love if it walked up and slapped you in the face."  

"I would," Mara insisted defensively.  

"For your sake I hope so," Leia said.  "Here we are."

"We were here already.  What did you forget?"

"Nothing," Leia announced calmly.  "We're getting something for you this time."  

"For me?"  

"Yes, for you."  Leia rummaged through the skimpy silk items laid out on two tables.  "This one," she said after a moment.  "It's your size.  Try it on."

"Why?  I don't have any credits on me.  I can't pay for it."  

"Daddy's paying," Leia winked.  

"No way," Mara exclaimed, throwing up her hands.  "My Master is not paying for lingerie!"  

"It's not Jedi money, Mara, it's Skywalker money."

"I'm not sure I see the distinction, and I doubt he will either." 

"He never checks my receipts," Leia laughed.  "And even if he did, he'd be far too embarrassed to read through the sizes on these items to see that one of them isn't mine."  

"Jedi don't wear lingerie," Mara said lamely. 

"Right.  And they don't get married or have children or live in penthouse suites in the capital district or own their own starships named after the wife they don't have.  Give me a break.  You can wear whatever you please under those robes.  No one will know but you."  

"What if I was injured?  I'd be taken to the infirmary and…"

"Really, Mara, cut it out," Leia groaned.  "You're trying this on whether you like it or not and if it fits I'm buying it for you and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Mara grumbled.  

"Get over it," Leia chuckled.  "Try it on.  Now.  I mean it."  

Mara snatched the tiny green garment from Leia's hand and stormed to the nearest dressing room.  After pulling it on, she looked at herself in the room's tall, narrow mirror.  It was unlike anything anyone ever had offered to buy for her before.  The color matched her eyes perfectly.  She looked stunning.  And she felt that way too.  

"So?" asked Leia's voice from outside.  

"I'm not coming out there, if that's what you're suggesting," Mara laughed.  "You can come in here."

"Very well."  Leia flung open the door and marched inside.  "See?  You look fabulous." 

Mara ran her hands along her sides and over her hips.  "Yeah, I guess I do."  

"I knew you'd like it if you just tried it on," Leia smiled as she put a hand on her shoulder.  "Do you want a few more?  There's plenty of money on my chip."  

"No," Mara shook her head.  "This is fine for now.  One small step at a time."

"Hey, I take my little victories when I can get them," Leia winked.  "Get dressed and let's go.  We should grab something to eat."

"Okay," Mara replied distractedly as Leia left.  

She gazed at herself in the mirror again and traced her fingers along her shoulders.  "Small steps and little victories." 

She changed back into the tunic and leggings.  She paused at the mirror and held the scanty green garment up against the gray fabric.  "Would you notice," she whispered to herself, "if it slapped you in the face?  Would you?"

Mara balled the silk into her hands and turned to leave.  _If I'm wearing this, I will._

**************

**_A Destiny Renewed_**** Missing Scene C: Late-Night Confessions (Chapter 15: Extended Scene)**

_Author's Commentary: The original version of this scene was short.  Its purpose was to highlight the close bond between the twins by showing them turning to each other for support and comfort.  In the context of chapter 15, it was obvious they would talk about Han and Jenny.  But actually showing the conversation would have spoiled the endings I wanted to save for chapter 16, so the scene cut away as soon as the "deal" was struck.  _

_This is another ideal Missing Scene because there's no longer anything to spoil – you've already read chapter 16_.

It was the middle of the night, and Leia found herself wandering aimlessly through the residence.  She simply felt the need to talk to someone, anyone, about anything.  A profound sense of loneliness she couldn't shake off hung over her.  

She pondered her options as she walked.  After dinner Sarré had left for her parents' home, where she finally would have her long-awaited reunion with Sabé, Alain, and Nalé.  Leia also knew Jenny wasn't here; a short time after dinner she had seemed very upset when she had departed for her own apartment.  On her circuit Leia had passed by a series of bedrooms only to find in disappointment the red indicator light activated at each one; Danaé, Bryon, Mara, and her parents all were soundly asleep.  She actually caught herself considering finding Threepio for some companionship as she approached her twin brother's room last.  

To her delighted surprise the indicator light on his door panel was green.  She tapped the button and waited.  He must have sensed her presence in the Force – the door swished open without a hail to identify whom it was.  

Luke's room here was even more spartan than his quarters in the Jedi Temple; it contained only his bed, a small storage locker, and a closet with a modest selection of non-Jedi attire.  Tonight he was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the bed, but he did not appear to be meditating.  He looked up at her and laughed.  "Clearly you're not going out in public tonight!"  

She glanced down at herself.  She wore a very simple, unadorned white nightgown and had drawn up her long brown hair into two tight buns on either side of her head.  Admittedly it was not the most flattering look of which she was capable.  "Not that you're one to talk, wiseguy," she chuckled.  

He conceded the point with a nod; the white sleeveless nightshirt and sleepshorts were about as mundane as it got.  "So," he asked quietly, "why are you awake?"  

"I couldn't sleep.  I just feel…  I don't know…  Lonely."  

"And you wanted to talk to someone."  

She nodded.  "And you?  Why are you awake?"  

"I can't sleep either.  I'm… well… hurting tonight.  A lot."  

Leia sat down on the floor across from him, tucking her legs under herself and leaning on an arm.  She wasn't sure who else had figured it out, but she had.  "About Jenny, right?"  

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"  

"Not really.  But I should."  Luke flashed her a weak smile.  "You go first, though.  Tell me what's bothering you." 

"Okay," she said quietly, then paused.  "I don't know where to start."  

"How about with Captain Solo?"

"Hey!"

He laughed happily.  "If I'm going to talk about Jenny, you're going to talk about Han."

She grinned broadly too.  "Deal."

"I have to say, Leia," he said more seriously, "I think it was pretty stupid of you to go out into the battle with him.  Not because it was with him, mind you.  In the little time I've known him he's certainly proven his capabilities as a pilot to me."  He sighed deeply.  "It was just too dangerous.  Period.  What in the blazes possessed you?"

"I don't know," she admitted with a shake of her head.  "When you rescued me from Xixus, and we fought our way out, I just felt… so… so alive.  Invigorated.  Energetic.  I felt like I finally got my life back."

"Ending your mourning.  You thought a lot about Jarren while you were their prisoner, didn't you?"  

"All the time," she said softly.  "All the time.  I know the Jedi investigators haven't reached a definitive conclusion yet, but after seeing those two Sith first hand, I'm convinced they killed him.  I know they did.  Not that I have any idea why, obviously, but I just know it." 

"So how did fighting brownshirts make you feel differently?"

"I wish I could explain it," she said.  "These last six months without Jarren, I've felt so empty.  So broken.  Like I'd never be happy again."  She reached up a hand to wipe away the teardrops forming in her eyes.  "But fighting our way out, I felt like me.  I guess it's because all the while they held me I was convinced they were going to kill me.  That I'd never see any of you again.  That I'd die alone, like Jarren did."

"And when we came to rescue you, you didn't."

"Exactly," she nodded.  "It made me realize that I'll always treasure my time with Jarren, but he's gone.  I'll never be the same person I was before I knew him or while I was with him.  But I need to live my life.  I could have died there on Xixus, Luke, and I didn't.  I got a second chance.  And I knew I couldn't waste it."

"That's what Jarren would have wanted, you know." 

"I know," she smiled sadly.  Then her face brightened again.  "Of course," she laughed, "I can't explain why wanting to not waste my life would lead me to think that flying into a massive battle with a man I'd just met was an especially good idea."  

Luke laughed heartily too.  "You're reading my mind again, my dear sister.  A few years ago it wouldn't have surprised me much at all.  But I thought you'd outgrown those kind of ridiculous impulses." 

"I did too," she winked.  "I really did.  I haven't done anything that reckless in years.  But Han has this flair about him.  Being around him… it's… intoxicating."  

"I see," Luke grinned deviously.  "You're pinning this all on him.  Maybe he used a Corellian mind trick on you."

"Very funny," she glowered.  "It's just… After the briefing, when Mom was so anxious, I really was going to go with her and Jenny and Sarré to the bridge.  I really was.  But then the whole turbolift ride up, all I could think about was all the customized features of their freighter that he'd pointed out on the little tour he gave me.  And I just had to see them in action.  I had to."  

"If you say so," he chuckled.  "I'm not sure what you see in him, though.  He's nothing like any man you've ever shown interest in before.  And he couldn't be more the opposite of Jarren."

"Don't you see?" she grinned.  "That's precisely the point.  He's so… natural.  He's not polished to perfection like these high-society gentlemen at the Royal Court or the Senate.  He's not a fork-tongued politician.  He's… genuine."

"That and he's completely crazy.  He brings out your mad streak.  And you like it."  

"Yes," she admitted as she felt her cheeks flushing.  "I guess I do."  

"What's more," he said in a mischievous voice, "it's been almost two days since you've last seen him, and you're feeling inexplicably lonely.  I wonder if there could be a connection?"

"Don't get carried away," she lectured with false sternness.  Then she cleared her throat and changed the subject.  "Let's turn the tables, my darling brother.  I could say the same thing.  Jenny?  What in the blazes possessed _you_?  Both of you, for that matter?"

"I wish I knew," he sighed.  "I wish I knew."

"Don't tell me the great Heartbreaker of the Jedi Temple got a taste of his own medicine?"  

"Yeah, he did.  A little, anyway."  

"Fess up, Luke," she persisted firmly.  "I was forthcoming.  Time to fulfill your half of the deal."

"Let's make one thing perfectly clear," he began.  "_She_ kissed _me_, got it?"

"Okay, okay, okay.  When did this happen?"

"After the battle, when we all got back to the guest quarters.  She came to my room and kissed me.  I didn't take it that far.  I wouldn't have.  But she did.  And she said she loved me."  He blew out a deep breath.  "I could read her emotions in the Force.  She was going to… spend the night with me if I hadn't panicked when I sensed Dad walking by.  It really shook her up, I guess, because the next time I saw her, earlier tonight, she told me there could never be anything between us." 

"Did you want there to be?"

"That's the thing," he grumbled.  "I don't even know.  It all happened so fast."

"Can I stop you for a second?  What about Ralli?  I mean, don't you still have an… arrangement… with her?"  

He threw up his hands and laughed in complete defeat.  "I know!  We do.  As far as she knows, yes."

"As far as she knows?"

"When we were searching for the frigate that had you, and then when we were rescuing you from Xixus, I realized I don't love her.  As more than a friend, I mean.  When I thought about what was at stake, and all the things I care about in my life, she just didn't make the list.  Once I'm back at the Temple I'm going to call it off with her."

"If you feel that way, it's the only fair thing to do," Leia nodded.  "But Jenny?  Where did that come from?"  

"The night we got back, after we'd found the frigate and had to let it get away, I was really angry with Dad.  Totally enraged.  More angry that I've been in years.  I really thought you were going to die, and it would be his fault for not letting me rescue you."  He met her eyes.  "I know in retrospect he was right, of course.  But at the time I was almost out of control."  

Leia smiled.  "And she came to you.  She calmed you down."

"Yeah," he whispered.  "She's always had that effect on me.  You know that as well as anyone.  And I was just so worried and upset, I guess I started to think about Mom and Dad, you know?  How he needs her that way.  At the time it really seemed to make sense that maybe Jenny was like that for me."  

"I suppose I can understand that," she said.  "Rationality is elusive in tense times.  We've already been over my own evidence of that point."

Finally he laughed again.  "Very true.  And I can only think that she must have felt the same way.  After Xixus, she was very shaken from flying cover in that X-Wing.  I guess it really drove home to her how serious the crisis is, how dangerous everything has become.  And that we might die.  I found her sitting alone and tried to make her feel better, and I thought I felt something between us then.  But I didn't do anything."  

"And then after the battle she threw herself at you?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he laughed.  "Hard to believe, I know, but she did.  She said she didn't want to lose me.  And I believe that.  She's like our big sister; she always has been.  I would be devastated if she died.  So maybe somehow in the stress of everything that happened she let her fears manifest themselves in a physical way."  

"Or maybe it's just a family curse," Leia chuckled.  "The Antilles girls fall hard for men they're destined never to have."  

Luke nodded, and they sat silently remembering the tragic story.  Jenny's older sister Ellina, whom Jenny had never known, had been a Jedi Padawan with whom their father had ended a brief relationship a few weeks before his reunion with their mother two decades ago.  Along with Obi-Wan and two of Anakin's other friends she had been part of the strike team sent to capture Dooku during the Battle of Geonosis, only to be slain by the Sith Lord.  In combination with other factors her death nearly had pushed Anakin to the dark side.    

"That could be it," Luke sighed after a moment.  "I certainly hope she has a happier fate in store for her."

"So do I," Leia agreed somberly.  "So do I." 

"I really messed this all up," he groaned.  "With everyone."  

"So what if you did?"  She reached over and took one of his hands.  "You and Jenny will get past this.  You'll probably laugh about it together sooner than you think.  And Ralli, well, she's a resilient girl.  Just give yourself some time, and before you know it you'll be out there breaking hearts all over again."

"Thanks," Luke smiled weakly.  "I needed to hear that."  

"You're welcome.  I really needed this too.  Thank you."

"Sure."

Leia rose to her feet.  "Good night, Luke.  Sleep well."

Luke stood up and embraced his twin.  "You too."

**************

**_A Destiny Renewed_**** Missing Scene D: On the Hot Seat (Chapter 16)**

_Author's Commentary: One function of the space battle in chapter 13 was to illustrate that despite their considerable strength in the Force, Luke and Mara still are Padawan learners without the full maturity and self-awareness necessary to become Jedi Knights.  In a short series of lines, Anakin and Obi-Wan noticed this and agreed to discuss the matter with their apprentices back at the Temple.  For purposes of the overall story, I think this character development point was established fully in this small way._

Anakin slammed the drives on his airspeeder to maximum capacity and soared through the late evening sky of Coruscant at top speed.  With the roof opened the brisk air whipped through his hair and Jedi robes.  

If he didn't hurry, he was going to be late.  

He and Padmé were having dinner with Bryon and Sarré, the first time ever that only the four of them would share a meal together.  Considering it had been only a few days since the youngsters had confessed their love for each other on the _Lady Vader_, this was a significant event indeed.  

If he was late, Padmé was going to kill him.  

And if he incurred her wrath tonight, it was going to be very difficult to stop himself from making his Padawan's life miserable because of it.  The meeting with Luke and Mara to discuss their cavalier attitudes during the Battle of the Trade Spine had not gone at all as he had expected and had lasted far longer than anticipated.  Even worse, it had left him with an unshakeable sense that something was different.  Something he would have to figure out quickly and work around.  But he had no idea what it was. 

In the few remaining minutes of solitude as he sailed through the buzzing lines of traffic with reckless abandon, he went over the meeting in his mind once again.  

_He and Obi-Wan had arrived at the appointed spot in the Room of a Thousand Fountains to find their Padawans seated next to each other on the stones at the edge of a small pool at the base of a short waterfall that splashed gently downward from a formation of rocks a few yards tall.  They hadn't been talking or meditating or even really looking at one another; they had seemed simply to be comfortable and calm in each other's presence.  _

_Anakin had begun the discussion.  "You know why we have asked you here?"   _

_"Yes, Master," Mara had said quietly.  "To discuss the Battle of the Trade Spine."_

_"And what about the battle in particular?"_

_"Our demeanor during the fighting, Master."  _

_Obi-Wan had nodded and continued.  "And what is there to discuss?"_

_"We killed a lot of enemy pilots, Master," Luke had shrugged.  "And you think we don't take it seriously."_

_"Well," Obi-Wan had said, "do you?"_

Anakin was getting frustrated with the congested line of speeders in front of him.  He wasn't going as fast as possible any more and he didn't have time for this.  

He wrenched the speeder into steep climb, then launched the drives to top speed again as he charged in the wrong direction through the next highest lane.  He ignored the outraged honks and hollers and weaved in and out of the oncoming vehicles.  After a few more heartbeats he passed most of the troublesome area and prepared to zoom down into the proper lane again.  

It was a good thing Padmé couldn't see what he was doing, because she would kill him for that too.  With any luck, though, he'd be home in time and she'd be none the wiser.  

_"Of course I do, Master," Luke had insisted.  "I don't like to kill."_

_"Why not?" _

_"Why don't I like to kill?"  Luke had shaken his head incredulously.  "What kind of a question is that?"_

_Anakin simply had looked to Mara without saying a word.  _

_"All life is precious," she had intoned in a defeated voice filled with the monotony of lessons learned by rote.  "A Jedi must kill only when necessary and only in defense.  Aggression is of the dark side.  Taking a life, even when done to serve a noble end, is a tragedy."  _

_Anakin had frowned; she had not seemed to appreciate the gravity of the lesson any more than the horrible nature of the battle in which they had participated.  "Certainly our actions in the battle were defensive and necessary," he had noted patiently.  "And we fought for a noble end.  Yet we nonetheless took the lives of other sentient beings.  Fathers, sons, brothers, cousins.  They died at our hands."  _

_"And if we are not troubled by their deaths," Luke had continued in similarly disenchanted voice, "then it will become too easy for us to kill without ensuring that causing death is truly necessary and justified."  _

_"That is correct," Obi-Wan had affirmed with a hint of approbation in his voice.  _

_Mara had signed in frustration.  "If you think we acted without appropriate compassion during the battle, then why," she had asked harshly, "did you place a wager on who would destroy the greater number of enemies?"_  

Still not on a fast enough pace despite maintaining his extreme speed, Anakin scanned the flow of traffic ahead and made a decision.  He tore the speeder into a gut-wrenching arc that brought him around the nearest skyscraper and into a new line of traffic.  

In his mind's eye he plotted another series of swift turns toward his destination.  After a quick adjustment to his plan he jerked the controls into another arc.  

This shortcut would work.  At least he thought so.

_"It is clear you do not understand the nature of the wager," Anakin had responded._

_"Explain it to me, then," Mara had demanded.  _

_He had held his tongue about the conspicuous absence of his title from her recent statements.  "When you killed enemy pilots during the battle, you sensed the pain of their deaths in the Force?" _

_"Of course."_

_"And as you killed more and more of them, what did you feel?"_

_Mara had furrowed her brow.  "I don't understand."_

_"I don't either," Luke had interjected with exasperation in his voice.  _

_Obi-Wan had glanced thoughtfully at the tumbling water behind the two apprentices.  "When the cruisers were destroyed, you sensed a great loss of life, did you not?  One that was stronger and more painful than the loss of a single starfighter?"  They both had nodded.  "When you have a full appreciation for the nature of our duty and the terrible price we pay when we kill, you will feel such pain accumulate over the course of the battle as you kill more and more individual pilots.  But it seems as though you did not."_

_Reluctantly Luke and Mara had shaken their heads._  

Anakin still couldn't figure out what it was that seemed odd about the meeting.  But fortunately his shortcut was a success and he was nearly to the residence now.

He weaved in and out of traffic, zipping effortlessly past the slower taxis and speeders around him.  Even without his Force-guided piloting abilities, his personal customizations to the speeder gave it velocity and maneuverability features far superior to the average vehicle on Coruscant.  In fact, he wasn't entirely sure whether all the modifications – especially the drives and the shifter – were even legal.  Not that anyone could catch him to find out, of course.  

He raced by a lumbering transport and whizzed toward home.  

_"Our wager did not in any way make light of the killing that was required," Anakin had explained.  "Instead, it served as a necessary distraction from the terrible nature of what we were doing.  Without such a distraction, the loss of life involved could have been overwhelming.  By focusing on the wager, we were able to do our duty without losing our concentration on the moment.  The wager was not a means of enjoying the battle; it was a means of tolerating an otherwise intolerable situation."_

_Mara had raised her eyebrows.  "And you think we enjoyed the battle?"  _

_"I didn't," Luke had glowered.  "You know I didn't."  _

_"I am confident you believe that to be the case," Obi-Wan had acknowledged.  "But you must search your feelings for the truth.  Do not be so certain that the motivations you assume guide your actions are in fact the true ones.  Subconscious anger or hatred – or even lack of compassion – can quickly rise to become conscious desires if left unresolved.  A Jedi Knight must have complete self-awareness."  _

_From their visible flinches, it had been clear the pointed reference to the possibility of impending Trials had not been lost on the Padawans.  _

_"Meditate on the battle," Anakin had instructed when the discussion finally had concluded a long time later, "until you have certainty about your own motivations and emotions.  Then we will discuss this matter again."  _

_"Yes, Master," Mara had nodded, but her green eyes had flickered with defiance._

_"Understood, Master," Luke had agreed while his blue eyes had looked conspicuously at the tiled floor._

As the towering skyscraper that housed the residence came into view in the distance, it finally dawned on Anakin what was troubling him about the conversation.  

Until now he and Obi-Wan always would play one apprentice off the other to teach lessons.  They could be counted on to identify their respective flaws and point them out with considerable flair.  But this evening they had not done so.  They had defended themselves against their Masters rather than critiquing each other.  This was without question the first time this had happened.  

It was almost as if Luke and Mara had signed a truce.  Or had reached a kind of understanding.  

Anakin swerved the speeder into its docking station on the exterior of the building and slammed on the repulsors to bring it to a stop just short of the wall.  The chrono on the console told him he had arrived with a few minutes to spare after all.  He leaned back in the seat and ran his fingers several times through his short gray hair.  Then he took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  

"If this continues," he said quietly to himself, "it's going to make things a lot more interesting."

**********


End file.
